


Home from War

by lokimostly



Series: Rainy Days & Home From War [2]
Category: Kong: Skull Island (2017)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, I still don't know how to tag on ao3, Injury, Needles, Reader Insert, Seriously there's a lot of angst, Swearing, Whump, communication is sexy and we're not having it in this fic, oh my god WHAT DO I TAG
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-03 15:01:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 27,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19466419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lokimostly/pseuds/lokimostly
Summary: One year after you lost the love of your life, a last-minute decision changes everything you thought you knew. Now only one question remains: how to make it out alive, and return home from war?NOTE: Please read the Rainy Days fic FIRST <3 this is a sequel.





	1. Chapter 1

Captain James Conrad stood in the middle of the road, uniformed soldiers passing him by. The wind whipped at his clothes, pulling them from him, as he stood frozen and utterly hopeless.

Where had you gone?

His mind raced and his blue eyes darted around, looking for some sign of you, but there was nothing to be found. All he could feel were the heartstrings in his chest splitting, the unbidden tears in his eyes blurring his vision, the overwhelming sense of hopelessness.

He fell to his knees, and looked up to the sky, where the yellow clouds had turned dark and drowned out the sun.

It began to rain.

**One Year Later**

Rain came down from the night sky in droves as the two scientists, Randa and Brooks, made their away across the busy Saigon street, holding their black umbrellas upright. As usual, they were caught up in argumentative conversation, shouting above the noise.

“Why do we need a tracker? And why SAS?”

“ _Former_ SAS,” Randa, the older, bearded man, corrected. “No allegiance to anyone. And he rescued twelve downed pilots from Da Nang in ‘72!”

Brooks’s reply was lost in the commotion of traffic and the onslaught of rain coming down on their umbrellas. As the two of them ducked into the corner establishment, folding up their umbrellas, Brooks sighed noisily and pushed his glasses up.

“Okay, fine. So how much do we tell him?”

“Just enough to get him to say yes,” Randa replied.

The bar was bathed in red and blue neon light. It lit up the silhouettes of everyone inside, revealing the room to be overcrowded and dusty. The air was thick with the smell of perfume and alcohol. Slow music played from some hidden room, giving the entire bar a mellow, diluted atmosphere.

The two men made their way to the bar and stopped short at the sight of the man they were looking for: James Conrad.

The former captain was a shell of his previously clean-cut self. Wearing a blue button-up shirt rolled up to his elbows and unbuttoned at the neck, Conrad’s sharp features were diluted by an unshaven beard, unstyled hair, and a clouded veil over his blue-green eyes. Apart from the hardness of his physique, the rest of him was in obvious disrepair, for reasons Randa and Brooks could only guess.

Conrad shot the eight ball deftly into the center hole and reached for the pile of money on the pool table. As he did so, someone grabbed his wrist and objected, scolding him in Vietnamese.

It all happened in a matter of seconds. Conrad stared at him, deadly and unblinking, before he snapped the pole upwards and hit the man in the face. Intuitively, he jabbed the pole backwards and slammed it into the body of another man with an open switchblade in his hand. The man threw a cue ball– he dodged. He threw another, and this time, he deflected it back into his face, knocking him to the ground.

Randa raised an eyebrow and turned to Brooks, giving him a look that screamed _I told you so_.

“Now there’s a man worth talking to.”

~

“…So we need someone like you, with unprecedented experience in navigating uncharted jungle terrain, to lead us on this expedition,” Brooks finished, watching Conrad nervously from across the table. Bathed in neon light, Conrad’s face was cold, calculating, and entirely unreadable.

Randa scoffed lightly. “We’re just scholars and scientists. We need someone with experience. In case things go sideways.” He held up his shot glass and paused, giving it a thoughtful look before his eyes flickered up to the rugged, bearded man sitting across the table.

“Men go to war in search of something, Mr. Conrad,” He pointed out. “If you’d found it, you’d be home by now.”

~

“ _Attention all soldiers and base personnel, final troop withdrawal will commence at 0600_ ,” the loudspeakers above your head announced as you walked through the flight bay of the U.S. army’s Da Nang air base– your home for the past eleven months. 

You cupped your hands around your mouth. “Hey, Slivko, do you have my Steinbeck?” You shouted, striding over to where the small group of soldiers were lounging on folding chairs, playing cards on top of ammo crates. You came within earshot of them just as Mills finished a joke, and laughter erupted from the men. You couldn’t help but smile, too– they were a funny group, and unlike your past experiences with previous squads, these soldiers actually felt like family.

Slivko looked up at you, laughing, and muttered “oh, shit,” reaching in his back pocket for the dog-eared paperback. He tossed it to you. “Sorry!” He called apologetically, waving as you walked past.

You grinned and shook your head, taking the book with you as you headed back to your quarters: a small, plain room with a single bunk, your half-packed duffle bag sitting open on the bed.

You sighed, tossing it onto the pile of books and other miscellaneous items, and took a moment to glance out the window. Squads of men ran past in drills. Planes and helicopters moved in and out on the runway like clockwork.

You were going to miss it.

Da Nang was a stark contrast to the jungle camps where you’d spent most of your deployment, but the change was a welcome one. The resources and free time that the air base provided had allowed you to finish up your degree: you were a _bona fide_ Field Nurse now, and finally used to the title.

The rest of your life, however, wasn’t lining up so nicely.

News of your parents’ fatal car crash reached you only days after you lost the man you loved. The two combined were enough heartbreak to send you spiraling. Suddenly, war became the only constant, dependable thing in your life.

You snapped out of your trance and shook your head, inhaling deeply. You still had things to pack.

Your fingers worked nimbly to stack your books in orderly fashion, next to folded civilian clothes. 

_When was the last time I’ve worn jeans?_ You wondered amusedly, setting your other personal effects inside, reaching for the final items.

Your hands wrapped around something small– silver metal, cold and familiar.

“Nurse L/N,” Said a voice behind you.

You whirled around and snapped to, holding your hands at your sides and closing your fist around the item in your hand. “Sir?”

In the doorway stood Colonel Packard– an imposing, stern-faced man who’d seen too much war for his own good. Despite this, he was kind enough to you, and you’d been underneath his command during your time here.

The colonel glanced at your room, taking in the stages of preparation to leave laid out.

“Your orders for home have been processed, I see.”

“Yes, sir,” you nodded.

The Colonel leaned against the doorway and eyed you with scrutiny. “Any plans for when you get back to the world, L/N?”

You blinked. This was the question you’d been avoiding. “No, sir,” you admitted. “I don’t.”

“How do you feel about one last Op?” He asked.

You frowned, not understanding. “Sir?”

“My boys and I have been called in. It’s just a flight escort for some organization called Landsat.” He tapped his fingers on the doorway. “If it’s what you want, go home. But if not …” he trailed off, raised his eyebrows, and pushed himself off the wall. “Let me know. We could always use you.”

You saluted one more time before he left, the sound of his boots fading down the hallway.

You fingered the cold, metal square in your hand, looking down as you opened up your palm and flipping it over to read the letters. _R.A.F._

Captain Conrad’s lighter.

A familiar pang in your chest made your eyes teary and you angrily wiped them away. An entire year ago, and you were still crying over it?

_Pathetic_ , you thought miserably. _He’s probably been dead for a year._

You inhaled deeply to calm your nerves and turned back to your bed, staring at the half-packed duffle bag lying open on your bed, like an open-ended sentence.

“What do I have to go home to, anyways?” You sighed aloud. You shoved the lighter back in your pocket.

_One last Op,_ you thought, Packard’s words echoing in your mind as you set to packing – but for a different purpose.

~

The docks of Bangkok were damp from rain and crowded by both cargo and the people carrying it. Your duffle bag was slung over your shoulder as you walked with the troops. Slivko and Mills were less enthusiastic than usual, and you knew from their grumbling that they were upset at being deployed a day away from going home.

Needless to say, you didn’t share the same sentiment. There was nothing for you to miss that you could find at the end of a return journey. Right now, your job was everything you knew, and you weren’t about to leave it for the unknown.

You nodded to Colonel Packard, who was standing at the base of the gangplank, and he gave you a barely-discernible smile. He’d already expressed that he was glad you were coming.

_It’s nice to be wanted,_ you thought, heading up the plank and onto the freight carrier Athena.

Stepping onto the ship gave you immediate nostalgia. The smell of seawater and rusted ship metal reminded you of your deployment to Vietnam from the states, and the weeks you spent at sea. You felt like you’d been so much younger then, even though it was a mere few years ago. 

Tossing your duffle bag onto the bunk without a second thought, you brushed your hands over your camo pants and headed down the narrow hallway towards the common rooms of the ship, where debriefing would take place in a few short minutes.

You yawned. The trip to Bangkok had taken a full day and then some– hopefully you wouldn’t fall asleep halfway through.

The room was decently sized and filled with folding chairs, where men in blue, collared shirts sat on one side and soldiers sat on the other. You took your place in the sea of green camo, finding a seat next to Mills.

You yawned again when you sat down and shook your head, trying to blink away the tiredness. He nudged you with his elbow. “Hey, don’t fall asleep on me, L/N. I don’t want your drool on my shoulder.”

You chuckled and nudged him back. “You can’t make me,” you threatened playfully, ignoring his comically hurt expression as the lights dimmed and the projector in the middle of the room whirred.

A dark, curly-haired man named Victor Nieves introduced himself as the chief LandSat field supervisor. The presentation began.

Almost as soon as he started talking, your eyes started to droop, and you felt yourself falling asleep despite your best efforts. You tried bouncing your knee, picking a spot on the floor to focus on, breathing deep through your nose, but nothing stuck. You swallowed and shook your head, looking up stubbornly at the bright projections of maps and geographical summaries. Your eyelids began to close again.

“…we’ll then land and make base camp for ground excursions led by Mr. Conrad–”

You jerked awake so fast that your chair skidded against the floor. The sudden, jarring noise made the LandSat supervisor pause before continuing his speech. He cleared his throat. “As I was saying…”

In another situation you would have been embarrassed, even mortified, but you were too startled even for that. With sudden and desperate urgency your head turned to look around the room, searching every face, anxiety growing in the pit of your stomach.

“ _What the hell, L/N_?” Mills hissed at you, but you weren’t listening.

You only had eyes for Conrad.

You finally found him. Standing against the wall, his arms crossed over his broad chest, listening intently to the LandSat Field Supervisor with no sign that he knew you were there.

You stared at Conrad, mouth agape. You inhaled shakily and took a moment to really _look_ – after all, you hadn’t seen him in a year.

He was leaner. Harder. Even more handsome than you remembered. But when he turned his head as he leaned against the wall, you could see an unfamiliar shadow in his eyes– one that hadn’t been there before. It cast a darkness over his countenance.

You watched his blue-green irises flicker over the projector screen, listening to Nieves talk. He sighed, and his gaze began to wander, and your heart rose in your throat.

He looked at you, and the world froze.

It was like time decided to take a day off. Suddenly you couldn’t remember the last time you’d drawn a breath, and the beat of your own heart was unfamiliar to you. Every atom in your body felt torn apart, every hair raised, your eyes sparkling with tears as you met the gaze of the man you loved– the man you lost.

In the painfully slow tick of time you saw his breath catch in the way that his chest shuddered, how the blood drained from his handsome face.

You wanted him to move to you, to make some sign. Damn the debriefing and the rows of soldiers and scientists between you– for all you cared, you and Conrad were the only two people in the vast expanse of the universe.

But he didn’t.

He looked away.

Time returned to its regular pace and suddenly you came back to your senses, just in time to hear the Field Supervisor finish the debriefing and dismiss you.

Without a word you shot out of your chair and ran back down the corridor that led to your bunk. It was all you could think to do– you shut the door behind you, and fell with your back against the metal as you slid down to sit on the floor.

And you cried.

_He looked away,_ you thought, replaying the momentary interaction over and over in your head. _He saw me, and he looked away._

A sudden, dreadful thought occurred to you, and you looked up at the wall. You whispered your fear to the empty room, voice thick with emotion.

“Did he forget about me?”

~

Conrad watched you bolt as soon as the meeting was dismissed. You were gone almost before anyone else was was out of their seats, lost in the crowd of military uniforms.

He sighed, reaching up and putting his hand on his chest. His heart was pounding out of his shirt.

_It was really you_ , he thought, clenching his jaw. _After all this time. All my searching._

As the room gradually emptied, he stood alone with his thoughts, staring at the empty seat where you had been so close.

He felt like someone had punched him in the gut and stolen the breath from his lungs. The urge to follow you was overpowering, but he stilled himself. After all, he didn’t know exactly where you’d gone. And there was another thing to consider– that you’d _run_ from him, like you’d seen a ghost.

_Men go to war in search of something_ , Mr. Conrad, Randa’s words echoed in his mind. Conrad tightened his jaw and sighed, speaking quietly to the empty room.

“If I’d found it, I’d be home by now.”


	2. Chapter 2

Conrad stood on the bridge of the ship, his arms crossed over the metal railing as he looked down at the figures on the deck below. Despite the distance, he found it only too easy to spot you– mingling with the soldiers, laughing and posing for Weaver’s camera as the photographer documented the beginnings of their journey, the smiles and peace signs. You were happy. Or at least, you seemed that way.

He sighed noisily, wanting to kick himself. The circumstances of your reunion were less than ideal – a year apart, wanting for nothing but the woman he loved. And now that he’d found you, the two of you hadn’t spoken a word to each other!

 _Why hadn’t he tried harder to find you?_ Conrad thought, his expression set in a gloomy and pensive frown. Maybe if he’d put forward more effort, the two of you would’ve collided earlier, and in better circumstances.

“Maybe even be on speaking terms,” he murmured to himself, shaking his head. No, that wasn’t it. He’d done everything in his power to try and come back to you, to make good on his promise.

Conrad had spent ten months going from place to place. He met U.S. military operatives, exhausted every lead he had. He’d gotten close, once– met a woman who knew you, a nurse named Fletcher. She’d been your medic partner while the two of you were stationed at Camp Eagle, southwest of Hue in central Vietnam. But even she had no clue as to your whereabouts.

Then, two months ago, he gave up. His leads ran out, his money was spent, and everyone he did know refused to talk to him on the subject. It was all that James would talk about. You consumed his waking hours and walked in his dreams when he slept, and he was haunted by his broken promise.

That was where Brooks and Randa found him: the back-alley watering hole where he’d been living the last two months, slowly drinking his life away, trying to drown out the thoughts of you. To no avail.

Conrad tightened his jaw and flexed his hands idly as he watched you mingle. He could’ve sworn that the wind carried your laugh, just close enough that he thought he could hear it from way up on the bridge.

It made him miserable.

 _But he hadn’t lost you,_ he reprimanded himself, watching the activity down below with veiled eyes. You were closer to him now than you’d ever been in all his searching. Why not go down there, and end twelve months of silence and heartbreak?

Conrad smiled ruefully, looking at his hands. No, you probably despised him now.

_No doubt she threw away every thought of me long ago._

~

Below, mingling on the deck of The Athena, you were trying your hardest not to think of Conrad– to no avail.

Every time your mind whispered to you, ‘ _he’s on this ship_ ,’ nervous anxiety rose in your throat. Your stomach was in constant knots. And yet, you had firmly decided that you were not going to go and find him.

“If I really mattered to him, he’d come find me himself,” you muttered under your breath, looking around the flight deck. 

Your fellow soldiers were back to their cheery selves, in the midst of music and laughter. Mills and Slivko waved at you cheekily and you made a mocking expression in response, eyes crinkling behind your aviators when you smiled.

Suddenly, the foghorn of the ship rang out, and you leapt from your seat as you and the other soldiers ran to your stations and prepared to depart. You grabbed your bomber jacket, pulling it on over your grey sleeveless shirt and heading for the military check-in.

Slivko jogged up beside you, pulling on his own jacket. “Hey, did you see that guy?” He asked, squinting in the sun.

“What guy?” You asked, and followed his finger pointing up to the ship’s bridge, but there was no one there. You scoffed and laughed, shaking your head.

“Hey, there was a guy there! I swear!” Slivko cried, adjusting his red headband.  
“Uh huh. Seeing ghosts, Sliv?” You teased, striding up to the check-in.

The soldier on deck handed you your army commissioned M-16 and a Nurse’s supply backpack: stethoscope, atabrine, saline flushes, gauze, a thermometer. You were packed light. As you looked around, however, there _was_ definitely something you were missing.

“ _Two mikes to launch. Military and civilians to assigned aircraft. Two mikes to launch_ ,” the voice over the PA system rang out.

Slivko put his hand on your shoulder, nodding. “C’mon. We’re flying Fox Seven.”

“Meet you there,” you nodded, before turning back to the soldier. “Excuse me,” you said, catching his attention. “There should be another bag here. Nurse’s dispatch. It has all of my other equipment.”

“Already loaded onto the Sea Stallion,” he replied, handing an M-16 to Reles– another soldier you knew – and turning his back to you.

You frowned and pressed your lips together. Turning your head to scan the tarmac, your eyes found the chopper that he had described. Lieutenant Chapman would be flying it, no doubt. You gritted your teeth and silently relented to the idea of being away from your tools for a few hours. While it made you uneasy, the likelihood of you needing morphine and other more serious medical supplies before you could get to your bag was incredibly low. Too low to make a fuss about, anyways.

“ _One Mike thirty to launch. I repeat, one mike thirty to launch._ ”

You turned around to leave and collided with a woman, making a noise of surprise.

“I’m so sorry!” You said, pulling back and recognising her layered hair and dark eyes: Mason Weaver. The two of you had been mingling on the deck together just a few minutes ago, and while you hadn’t personally introduced yourself, she hadn’t gone unnoticed by you. Freckled, pretty – and smarter than she looked, if you weren’t mistaken. Weaver’s eyes didn’t miss a thing, and neither did her camera.

“Oh, it’s okay,” she excused, shaking her head and smiling. “I was in your way, so.”

You chuckled politely. “Excuse me.”

Jogging across the tarmac, you tossed your backpack into the carriage of the Fox Seven chopper and grabbed a headset.

“Welcome aboard,” Said Slivko, grinning, and you rolled your eyes as you settled into the seat.

Conrad sat bouncing his knee inside a separate helicopter across the landing pad, shoulders curled as he watched you jog across the tarmac, throw your backpack into the chopper and climb inside. His hands drummed restlessly against the fabric of his dark pants.

“ _One mike to launch. I repeat, One mike to launch_.”

Weaver walked up to the chopper, one hand on her camera. “Hey, have you seen my–”

“Take my seat,” Conrad interrupted.

“What?”

“Take my seat,” he repeated, leaping out and jogging across the tarmac, leaving a bewildered Weaver behind him.

“Battery?” You asked Slivko as he switched on the dials.

“Check.”

“Generator running?”

“Check.”

“Engine star–” you began, turning your head when the motion in the corner of your eye distracted you. You watched in shock as James leapt into the open carriage of the helicopter.

You stared at each other.

His chest was heaving from running, stunning blue eyes wide and intense. “Y/N–” he began.

“ _Attention, pilots. You are clear for takeoff. Launch, launch, launch_.”

“Headset, L/N,” Slivko reminded you, and you heeded his instruction automatically, casting a sideways glance at the former Captain as you put the headset over your ears.

“Fox Seven, ready for takeoff,” you murmured into the mic, trying your best to ignore Conrad a few mere feet from you.

James, by contrast, couldn’t take his eyes off of you. 

He drank you in like a man dying of thirst. He thought he’d remembered every detail about you, every defining feature, but seeing you again this close made him realize how much he’d forgotten. As the choppers rose into the air and the wind whipped at your hair, he felt a severe and insistent desire to take you in his arms, to discover you all over again– if only you would let him.

Colonel Packard’s voice came in over the headset. “ _Fox Group, on me. Maintain Course. Nothin’ we haven’t done before._ ”

You steeled yourself and grabbed hold of the bars up above. Your stomach turned as the helicopter tilted, lining up with the rest of the group and flying headfirst into the storm. The clouds ahead had gone grey and purple, flashing yellow with lightning. A splash of cool moisture hit your face when you entered into the dark, with nothing but the lightning to guide your line of sight.

The helicopter careened from side to side as Slivko tried his best to navigate, his forehead beaded with sweat. Lightning flashed too close for comfort and your heart dropped as the immediate roll of thunder echoed inside your ribcage.

Another flash right in front of the windshield caused him to jerk the controls back in response, rising in altitude and struggling with the strong winds. The red RPM LIMIT button began flashing, other alarms sounding off as he struggled to regain control.

Conrad reached over with his free hand and held it out to you, his palm open. An anchor amidst the sea of lightning. His blue-green eyes were a reflection of calm. Your chest shuddered as the helicopter rocked and you swallowed, reaching for him.

Packard’s voice came over the radio steady and calm. “ _Fox Group, switch to inertial navigation._ ”

You snapped out of your trance and turned your now-flushed face away, grabbing onto your backpack as it shifted beside you.

Conrad reluctantly retracted, casting a saddened glance in your direction before another sudden jerk of the helicopter caused him to hold on tight. The whole machine trembled, vibrating like it was about to come apart at any moment. The alarms blared.

You closed your eyes as lightning flashed bright behind your eyelids, sick to your stomach. As Slivko struggled with the controls, and you were thrown towards open air at every turn, you vaguely wondered if you were going to die this way: three feet away from the man you loved, unreconciled.

Suddenly, the clouds broke. The rumbling stopped. You raised your hand to shield your eyes from the blinding sunlight as the world opened up to you again. Green ocean and greener mountains unrolled before you like a map.

The laughter of the other pilots reached your ears through the headset and you broke into a smile. You let go of the metal bars and felt the warm wind whip at your face as the group reached the main body of the island: trees and grass valleys amongst towering green mountains.

A fainter smile was on Conrad’s lips, too. Perhaps the first in months.

“ _Fox Leader to Fox Group: split up. Survey your zones._ ”

“Copy all, Fox Three,” Slivko responded. “Heading zero, nine, zero.”

You pulled your headset off your ears as the chopper banked right, flying over grass wetland. Animals ran out from beneath you, bounding through the water. The distant boom of seismic charges was hardly noticeable behind the thrum of the helicopter blades.

Conrad’s eyes flickered over the ground as you travelled, bouncing his knee idly. White birds took flight at the tremor of the charges and surged into the air, soaring upwards in a great cloud.

He turned his head and gazed at you fondly as you laughed in awe. He raised his eyebrows, about to say something, when a flicker of movement caught his eye and he looked over, just in time to see one of the choppers fall out of the sky.

The sudden and deafening sound of an explosion turned your blood cold. A roar so loud that it shook your bones. Your feeling of exhilaration, so potent only a moment ago, evaporated into pure dread.

You pulled your headset back on and was immediately met but an array of panicked voices. Colonel Packard was lost in the noise, attempting to regain control.

“ _What the hell is that thing?_ ”

“ _I don’t know!_ ”

“ _Fox leader to Fox group!_ ” Packard shouted. “ _Fire at will!_ ”

You shrieked and grabbed onto the bars as Slivko let fly a whirlwind of bullets, maneuvering to dodge what looked like… well, a giant monkey.

But that was impossible, wasn’t it?

Currently, there was no time to think on the matter. A huge, black hand the size of a car reached outward in slow motion, grasping for the helicopter. Slivko tilted the aircraft sharply, dodging its swing in the nick of time. Everything fell to the side – including your backpack, sliding across the floor towards open air.

You leapt for it without thinking, catching it by the strap as it flew out of the doorway, and you with it.

Conrad’s hand caught the fabric of your bomber jacket and hefted you back into the helicopter. You shrieked as the chopper shuddered violently, holding onto Conrad’s arm with one hand, and putting your backpack on with the other.

Alarms blared wildly as the chopper careened from side to side, ducking and rising in futile attempts to avoid certain death.

“Pull out now! PULL OUT!” Conrad shouted, slamming his hand against the back of the pilot’s seat.

“I don’t take orders from you!” Slivko argued.

“LOOK OUT!” You screamed, as one of the helicopters fell out of the sky. Debris flew in every direction- among it, the lifeless body of a man.

You screamed when he hit the windshield, shattering the glass and sliding upwards.

There was a sickening crunch in the blades.

Your back slammed against the seat as the alarms blared and the chopper began to spiral. The world spun wildly. You found yourself gripping white-knuckled to the fabric of Conrad’s shirt, nerves fried with adrenaline. You swallowed your heart and tried to shut out the overwhelming noise, the wind spinning around you.

Defeated in his battle with the controls, Slivko shouted, “Prepare to crash!”

Conrad wasted no time. “BRACE!” He commanded, pulling the both of you down and cradling your head against his chest. Held within the strength of his grip, the chaos outside seemed suddenly inconsequential. The wind dimmed to a mere breeze. No sound of shrieking metal and screaming assaulted your ears, only the gentle ins-and-outs of Conrad’s breathing and the fast, strong hammering of his heart.

 _This isn’t a bad way to go_ , you thought numbly, swallowing. You screwed your eyes closed and buried your head in his chest, breathing in the faint, familiar scent of cologne.

He smelled like home.

~

You coughed hoarsely, blinking away dust and ash debris. Your body ached from the impact of the crash. Conrad’s muscular arms were still holding you firmly against him, safe and sound. You could feel his heart running a mile a minute, so you put your hand on his chest, pulling away to look up at his beautiful blue-green eyes.

They stared back at you. Had he always been this handsome, this stern-faced? But you could see now that the darkness over his countenance was in fact a shadow of grief.

Your heart broke.

“James,” you whispered through dry lips, your voice cracking, as you reached a shaky hand up to touch his face.

“L/N!” Slivko shouted from outside the crashed helicopter. His voice snapped you out of your trance so fast that you jumped. You turned, looking at his familiar, dirt-streaked face through gaps in the crushed metal.

“In here!” You croaked, and he reached down to lift you out. As you grasped it, you cast a half-second glance at Conrad, whose face looked like you’d just stolen his heart from his chest and then taken a bite out of it.

You swallowed your feelings and climbed out of the helicopter, stumbling onto the grass. The air was hot and sweltering, and too quiet for your liking. No birds, no animals– just the humming of insects and the panicked chattering of people.

“Does anyone want to tell me what the hell is going on?” Nieves asked shrilly. The Landsat field supervisor was a shell of his former, composed self. He paced back and forth between the trees, in front of the two scientists – San and Brooks – who were taking the shock in silence.

“Are you hurt?” You asked, walking up to Nieves. He jumped, looking at you and swallowing.

“What? No, I …. I should be sitting at a desk,” he muttered weakly, and wandered off.

You quickly dismissed him to be dealt with later, sighing and unzipping your backpack. You strode over to Slivko, whose hand was bloodied, and offered him a thin smile as you took out gauze and antiseptic.

Conrad pulled himself out of the helicopter with a grunt, stumbling onto the grass. He dusted off his pants and gathered himself, exhaling heavily as he surveyed the wreckage of the chopper.

Mason Weaver stood by the wreckage, camera in hand, a small cut across her forehead. Her wavy layered hair was caked with dust and grime from the wreck.

She caught Conrad’s movement out of the corner of her eye and turned, looking him up and down.

“Are you alright?” He asked gently, raising his eyebrows.

She scoffed, shaking her head. “I… don’t know how to answer that right now.”

Conrad chuckled humorlessly in his throat and shrugged his wide shoulders. “Fair enough.”

She exhaled shakily.“All that money they paid you?” She said, staring at him with an odd look. “I hope you’re worth it.”

Conrad grimaced in response as she walked away, before taking a pair of binoculars and climbing up the ridge.

He stood on the edge of the rock outcropping, the entire valley laid out below. Raising the binoculars to his face, he scanned along the treeline, sweeping over the grass. He watched the last of the helicopters fall out of the sky and burst into flames upon impact. There was no sign of the – well, whatever it was – only the distant boom of every footstep as it travelled back to where it came.

No more gunfire, or screeching metal. Only the noise of the jungle, which was happily returning to its regular volume.

Conrad turned around and put down the binoculars, shaking his head as he descended from the rock pile, taking one last leap to land in the midst of the group.

“They’re down,” he said, in an informative tone, looking from face to face with an expression of uncertainty.

You looked up just as you finished wrapping Slivko’s hand and raised your eyebrows in a silent question.

He met your eyes and nodded. “Every last one of them.”


	3. Chapter 3

You were avoiding him. He was sure of it now. **  
**

 _Why?_ He wondered as he led the group through the jungle. The two of you had undeniably shared _something_ inside the helicopter.

It hurt. Just looking at you was like drinking poison that he couldn’t live without, and yet every so often he would glance back, taking you in for only a fraction of a second. It was all he could bear.

There was nothing Conrad wanted more than to have a chance to hold you again, to offer apologies between kisses, mend your heart with his words, but … how? You had turned your grief to armor, it seemed.

He didn’t want to break through your armor, just to take it off.

You seemed friendly enough with Slivko and the other soldiers – then again, you were one of them. They were dependable, steadfast. Just familiar enough to let your guard down around.

That was one of many things that had changed, it seemed. Conrad was decommissioned, and free to follow his heart. You, on the other hand, couldn’t take such liberties. You were still under the jurisdiction of the U.S. military, and had to act with caution and reserve.

Perhaps that had to be considered as a reason for your actions. _Maybe,_ he thought, with just a glimmer of hope, _you didn’t hate him, after all._

At the back of the group, you were doing your best to ignore Conrad as usual. At this point, there was nothing you wanted more than to be held in his arms again, the way he had in the helicopter. You wanted to listen to his deep, accented voice in your ear, feel his hands on your skin, shiver at his breath on your neck.

But you had enough to focus on besides the imaginary thought of him. In order to combat this walking destraction, you brought up the back of the group with Slivko, hands on your rifle, and glancing up at Conrad only when you dared. The heat of the jungle had you sweating in droves, but he seemed unaffected by it: at most, it made his muscled arms glisten and the fabric of his shirt hug his muscled chest more tightly. Frankly, it was unfair.

Slivko’s young, babyish face was contorted with distress as he tried in vain to communicate over radio. “This is Slivko, do you read? is anybody out there? We’re headed north to the exfil location. Everyone here seems way too calm right now. Do you copy? Anybody?”

“We’re out of range, Sliv,” you pointed out gently, glancing behind you occasionally as you walked. “Save it for when we get closer to the group.”

The huge trees on either side were thick with vines and peeling bark, surrounded by outcroppings of brown rock. Insects buzzed and birds sang unfamiliar melodies far above you, reminding you that you were a long way from home. It wasn’t a good feeling. 

The terrain sloped downward. It was a welcome relief on your already-sore calves. You took the opportunity to unzip your bag, slinging it over one shoulder as you ran a mental checklist of supplies while you walked. 

You seethed silently about your lost medical bag on the Sea Stallion, and all the equipment inside. If only you’d had the foresight to pack your personal bag more thoroughly.

With luck, none of the men you met up with would be in critical condition. If there were, there was only so much you could do with gauze, antiseptic, and a meager six doses of morphine.

More outcroppings of rock began to appear. They almost seemed cut– their sharp angles resembling huge bricks. You decided to worry yourself with the contents of your bag instead, ignoring the changing terrain around you, until suddenly the party stopped.

You kept walking, unbothered, until Conrad held out his arm to stop you. You looked up. “What–”

He shook his head, motioning for silence. You looked ahead. There was a brick wall, made of the same stone you’d seen earlier, but this wasn’t any natural outcropping. The rocks made a broken, circular arch, some of the surface covered in faded yellow stripes of paint. Moss grew in between the cracks, along rotted beams and broken walls.

You weren’t alone on the island.

Conrad slowly moved his hand to his gun, proceeding forward with caution. You zipped your bag as quietly as you could and wrapped your fingers around your own M16, following him underneath the arch.

The rest of the group trickled in, walking slowly through the dilapidated structure. It seemed uninhabited.

Mason gasped aloud. “Behind you!”

The silence broke like a water balloon. Camouflaged natives appeared out of thin air, their bodies painted to match the dilapidated stones. Against the grey and yellow, the whites of their eyes stood out. Spears and pointed weapons were at your throats before you had time to react. 

Naturally, the group panicked. Slivko’s hands flew for his gun and he brandished it frantically.

“Everybody stay calm!” Conrad soothed, holding one hand out in a desperate attempt to get the civilians to lower their weapons.

Slivko’s eyes were wild and skittish. “What the hell–”

“Conrad!” Mason cried desperately, stumbling backwards as they closed in.

“Stay calm!” You repeated, your own weapon brandished.

“Nobody shoot, _nobody shoot_ ,” Conrad urged, holding his free arm out protectively against you.

One of the painted natives jabbed their weapon forward, inches from your throat. Conrad wasted no time in pulling you forcibly behind him, brandishing his weapon and clenching his jaw.

“Stay. Calm.” He ordered, in a tone you’d never heard before. It turned your blood cold. You put your hand on his shoulder and felt the taut muscle beneath.

“Conrad,” you said quietly, speaking slowly so that your voice wouldn’t tremble. “What do we–”

But you were interrupted.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, no need for that, come on now! Everybody keep your wigs on now!” A voice cried, coming around the rubble.

You were stunned into silence. A disheveled looking man appeared, jogging through the archway like he was late for the party.

“This _cannot_ get weirder,” Mason muttered.

Round-faced and stout, the man’s curly hair and beard were unkempt and greying. He was dressed in a vintage uniform, which looked as old as he was, and obviously hadn’t been kept in very good condition.

“What?” Slivko, weakly. He looked about to cry from stress.

The man smiled toothily, his eyes slightly crazed. “I couldn’t believe it when they said you were coming,” he grinned, his voice trembling with emotion. “I was up all night, just thinking about how me and Gunpei dreamed of this moment. And now here it is. 28 years, 11 months, and 8 failed attempts to get back to the world, and instead the world comes to me?” He laughed tremulously. “Ain’t that a crack?”

He looked back at the natives, whose spears were still upright and pointed at your group.

“They never smile,” he said, looking back at you with watery eyes and an apologetic shrug.

“Did you crash here?” you asked, unable to hold your tongue. You stepped forward as you spoke, and Conrad quickly put his arm out to hold you back.

The man’s soft eyes brightened. “Oh! Sorry, miss.” He reached up, carefully tipping his uniform hat and introducing himself. “Lieutenant Hank Marlow of the 45th. Put the old flight suit on for you.” He tugged on the edges of the material with both pride and bashfulness, before turning back to the natives.

“I told you! Didn’t I tell ya? It’s fine,” Marlow soothed, shaking his head. They lowered their spears, expressions no different than when their weapons had been brandished.

“There’s something out there, man,” Slivko said shakily, his voice cracking.

Marlow smiled weakly, this time in understanding. “Oh, there’s a lot out there. Now c’mon–” he gestured for you to follow. “We gotta get home. You don’t wanna be out here at night.”

~

You’d thought this island couldn’t possibly be any stranger. But after everything you’d seen– the giant monsters, the inhabitants, the wildlife – you had resigned yourself to fact that this was simply unlike any place you’d ever been.

Marlow had wasted no time in taking your group to the only safe place on the island: the home of the local inhabitants, who he called the Iwis. Their village was kept safe only by an incredible feat of architecture: a giant wall spanning the length of the valley’s opening, cutting across the wetland and effectively barricading anything from getting in. More specifically, keeping out what he called the Skull Crawlers– whatever they were.

You didn’t want to find out.

After the field trip, Marlow had offered the group both a place to stay the night and a potential ride to the exfil: a makeshift watercraft in dire need of fixing.

The sun was already high in the sky, and there were only about thirty-six hours until scheduled departure. Slivko, Conrad, and the other boys were on their way to the river, while Mason and the others had wandered off to explore the village. You, however, had other interests.

You caught Marlow’s arm just before he left. “Sir,” you began apologetically, unsure how to address him. The WWII veteran was undeniably a bit crazy, but he outranked you nonetheless. “These people, you mentioned their medicine–”

“That’s right!” He interrupted, brightening. “You’re a doctor, aren’t you?”

You chuckled and cleared your throat. “Not quite. Nurse.”

Marlow waved his hand dismissively and turned around, walking off. You trotted behind him, following as he rambled.

“These people have medicine that seems to stop age,” he explained. “No sickness, either. I haven’t had a cold since I’ve been here.” He smiled. “I don’t know much about it, but I can show you what I do know.”

He walked until the worn down paths turned to long grass, leading you to a stone structure close to the wall. Unlike the first archway you’d encountered in the forest, which was in disrepair, this had been well-kept.

When the wooden door opened and you stepped inside, a gasp escaped your lips.

The sight that met your eyes was like a dream. Everywhere you looked, something new beheld your attention. Glowing mushrooms and raw quartz hanging from the ceiling, charged with light and glowing on their own. There were hanging plants and herbs, dried and soaking in ferment, made into concoctions that were neatly stored. Not only were the medical remedies here and available to you, but their ingredients as well– perfectly laid out for your study. With any luck, these could lead to cures the modern world barely dreamed of.

You only half-heard Marlow excuse himself as he left you to ponder. You set down your bag and shuffled through its contents, remembering something you’d seen inside earlier– sample bottles. Letting your fingers dance over the items on the shelves, you chose the first containers and plants that caught your eye, setting them out on the stone counter.

Collecting these samples would take you hours, no doubt, but it was worth your while. After all, if you’re stuck on an uncharted island, you might as well be productive.

~

Conrad stepped off the haphazard boat, wiping the oil from his hands. He squinted up at the green mountains, their silhouettes glowing from the light of the setting sun. The sky was already growing dark. Stars had begun to appear in clusters, taking the sun’s place in lighting the path from Marlow’s waterboat to the bridge of _The Wanderer_ , the wrecked freight ship where Marlow had offered to let the group stay the night.

Apparently, the bridge of the ship was still relatively intact, and had more than enough room for your happy troop. Conrad would take it over making camp in the woods any day.

His thoughts drifted to you. As he travelled through the grass and ascended the old metal stairs, following their narrow path, he wondered if tonight would be the night to break your mutual silence. He could only hope.

Conrad came up to the bridge. It had been crudely decorated over the years, made into something that could conceivably called a “home.” Sketches and painted figures on the wall, odd assortments of belongings and scrap metal, all accumulated by Marlow over the past twenty-nine years.

Slivko had set up a portable record player, filling the room with David Bowie’s voice as he sang the tune of _Ziggy Stardust_. He was perusing the drawings on the wall like they were pages of an open magazine, flipping one of the Iwi spears around in his hand. The scientists Brooks and Miss San were talking in low voices down one of the hallways while she flipped through his notebook.

Marlow sat in front of a shattered mirror, carefully shaving his face.

“What kind of music is that?” He asked Slivko without turning around, his shaky hand focused on cutting a straight line. “What happened to swing? Benny Goodman?”

Slivko laughed, tossing the spear from hand to hand. “You’re like a time traveler, man. I’m telling you, this is the new sound.”

The old man grumbled in response, scowling into the mirror. “I don’t know if i’m gonna like whoever’s under this beard.”

Nieves crossed his arms, shaking his head. “Listen, I really hope that that thing you call a boat can get us upriver in thirty-six hours, because if we miss that window,” he said tremulously, “we’re, uh, literally up a creek.”

“If the boat doesn’t work, we’ll just take the train.”

Conrad left the idle chatter and ducked under a rusted beam, making his way to the balcony where Mason Weaver stood with her camera. Her dark eyes were fixed on the night sky, where a stunning display of the aurora borealis were glowing in vibrant hues of purple and green.

“Isn’t it odd that the most dangerous places are often the most beautiful?” He asked, raising an eyebrow as he came to stand next to her, watching the lights. From way up here, the island almost looked peaceful. 

She hummed in response. “I’m trying to take a long exposure photograph, but…” she held up a small, black flashlight. “My flashlight broke.”

“That’s a shame,” he murmured, turning back and looking around the room. He paused. “Has L/N come up yet?”

Mason frowned, looking around. “No… I haven’t seen her since we first got here, actually.”

There was a sinking feeling in his stomach. “Slivko?” He called over his shoulder.

The volume of the record turned down and he appeared on the balcony, spear in hand. “Where’s Nurse L/N?” Conrad asked.

Slivko’s expression turned to worry. “I – I don’t know.”

 _Damn it,_ he thought, as anxiety rose in his throat. Without a moment’s hesitation, Conrad moved past him, picking up his rifle and pulling the strap over his shoulder.

“I’m going out to find her,” he announced, heading back down the rusted metal stairs. The echo of his footsteps rang out loudly in the dark. As soon as his feet hit solid ground, Conrad broke into a run, heading towards the lights of the village.

 _Please,_ he prayed, to whoever might be listening. _Please be alright._

~

The sun had set almost an hour ago, but you hadn’t noticed. As you’d predicted, taking samples of the medicines was a time-consuming task– not that you didn’t enjoy it.

You were carefully sealing a small container with some herbal samples when the wooden door flew open with a crash.

You shrieked, nearly dropping the container as you whirled around to face Conrad, who stood in the doorway. His chest was heaving from running. The borealis lights in the night sky cast his figure in an ethereal glow.

You stared at the expression on his face and suddenly it dawned on you. “What are you doing?” You asked slowly, raising an eyebrow and pressing your lips together.

He shook his head, still panting, and straightened up. “Nothing,” He replied breathlessly, clearing his throat and avoiding your eyes.

“You were worried about me,” you declared, smirking openly. You continued before he could reply. “Good thing you’re here. I was about to venture out for some more of these–” you gestured to one of the glowing plants, which illuminated a purple, bioluminescent hue. “I saw some on our way in, they grow right outside the wall. C’mon.”

Without waiting for him to respond, you put away the last jar of samples and moved past him. _He’ll follow_ , you thought confidently, a small smile on your face, as you made your way towards the wall.

“Wh–” Conrad stared at you, watching you plod off into the dark. Sure enough, he pushed himself off of the wall and jogged to catch up to you, slowing down at your heels.

“Nurse L/N,” he said, exasperated and attempting to maintain some semblance of formality, “We should go back. It’s dark, and neither of us know what’s out there.”

“I’ve got you to protect me, haven’t I?” You asked testily, striding through the grass.

“Always.”

The candidness of his response caused your feet to falter, and you nearly made the mistake of looking back at him, and getting lost in his eyes again. Even in the dark, staring into them was like being pulled out by a riptide.

“C’mon,” you said finally, picking up your previous pace and ducking into the small opening of the wall, moving slowly through to the other side.

Stepping into the world beyond the wall filled you with immediate dread and adrenaline. Your senses felt recalibrated – every small sound seemed deafening, and any hint of movement across the wetlands made your heart jump in your throat.

You could feel Conrad practically breathing down your neck, he was so close. You forced yourself to focus instead on the task at hand, scanning your surroundings until you found what you were looking for.

“There,” you whispered, elbowing him gently and pointing to the west, where the wetland turned to solid ground, on the outskirts of the forest. Clumps of the purple plant were growing between the roots of the trees, shining gently in the dark.

Conrad trailed behind you, holding his gun ready as the two of you treaded carefully through the shallow water.

“This is dangerous. We should go back,” he said lowly, caution and foreboding clear in his voice.

“I don’t see any big monsters, do you?” you hissed back. You slowly moved further away from the wall and out of the water, stepping soft-footed along the bank and up the ridge towards the trees. At some points you used the outcroppings of rocks for handholds when the terrain was too steep and slippery– the last thing you wanted was to make noise. Who knew what might be listening.

You could feel the heat radiating off of Conrad’s body as he followed close behind, and his frustration, too– though in your mind, he completely deserved it for everything he’d put you through. Honestly, you wouldn’t have ventured out to look for the plants if he hadn’t suddenly appeared, like some tall, heavily exasperated Prince Charming.

Finally you reached the edge of the forest, where the skirt of trees was thin and the plants glowed dimly in the dark. Kneeling down on the earth and pulling out a small knife, you set to work at cutting their stems, placing them carefully inside your backpack.

Conrad stood above you, gun brandished, looking around tensely and fingering the cold metal.

“Y/N,” he said quietly, using your first name to catch your attention. “This is _insane_. We have no idea what’s out here.”

“I’m almost done,” You whispered, unfazed by his anxiety.

He clenched his jaw and shook his head, looking out over the water. “The last thing we need is for you to get hurt.”

“Conrad, I promise you that if I get hurt it won’t be out of insanity,” you insisted, taking the last of the plants and sheathing your knife.

You grunted and stood up, zipping up your bag. “See? I’m–”

Conrad pushed you against the nearest tree without warning, pressing his large hand to your mouth. Your objection came out as a muffled noise and you glared at him, but he shook his head fervently.

There was something moving through the water, across the wetland. Something big.

You huffed quietly and forced yourself to focus. Suddenly you could hear the movement of the water, the sound of feet shaking the earth in small tremors. Your heart was in your mouth. You swallowed it down, beginning to shake with adrenaline.

Conrad’s body was pressed flush against yours in the dark, holding you against the peeling bark. You could feel his heart beating out of his chest. You reached up slowly, peeling his hand away from your mouth and letting out a shaky breath. “Can it see us?” You whispered.

“Shh,” he responded, looking around as carefully as he could. He could make out the silhouette of a gigantic creature, swinging its muscled tail as it prowled along the wall. Its tongue flickered out to taste the air.

A Skull Crawler. It could be nothing else.

The unshakable feeling of impending doom was like electrocution on your nerves. Your body was frozen in fear. The monster growled: an unholy noise coming out of the back of its long throat, echoing in the dark. 

You suddenly realized that every breath could be your last.

“Conrad,” you started, barely audible.

“It’s alright,” he whispered distractedly, his eyes flickering from the monster to the wall as he tried desperately to think of some plan, some way that you could escape to safety.

“James, I’m sorry,” you whispered, tears coming to your eyes. You weren’t sure what you were apologising for: more than likely, everything. The stubbornness. The heartache of being inches from your love without saying a word. Condemning him to death like this.

Conrad was quiet for a moment, barely breathing. The pause was so long that you almost thought he hadn’t heard what you said; more than that, you weren’t sure you had the courage to repeat it again.

“Not as sorry as I am,” he murmured finally, his hand sliding down your arm to hold gently onto your own.

Your heart swelled so much that it hurt..

“C’mon,” he breathed, as if holding your hand had given him a shot of liquid courage. He pulled you gently away from the tree, both hands devoted to guiding you along the bank. “Let’s try and get back, quietly now.”

You nodded, mouth dry, and followed him through the dark. The auroras in the sky had faded, leaving nothing but a brilliant blanket of stars. They cast a shadowy, black-and-white light over the earth, casting the strange world around you in a much harsher light. You crept through the long grass, heading downhill towards the small, human-sized gap in the wall. You could barely see it.

But you could see the Skull Crawler.

It was monstrous. Walking on two enormous, muscled legs, its claws churned up the water where it stepped. The front of its head looked like bone, as if its leathery skin had stopped growing halfway down the skull. You could smell its breath from here– raw, rotting meat stuck between its jagged teeth.

“Carefully,” Conrad whispered, his arm wrapped protectively around your waist. “Quietly as you can.”

You lowered yourself into the water. The waves lapped at your legs, threatening to make noise at any movement that was too fast or too sudden. You forced your body to stop shaking, exhaling softly and creeping through the water and grass.

The monster raised its head in the air, and you froze. Its tail stopped swinging. It turned its head. You watched its beady eye scan the water, fixate on you.

And it roared.

“Nevermind! Run!” Conrad shouted, surging forward.

You shouted in terror as the Skull Crawler ran towards you, its powerful legs churning up the water. Conrad’s hand was locked with yours with a grip so strong that it cut off the flow of your blood. You half-ran, half-swam your way to the wall. He pulled you through the water with every ounce of his strength, determined to beat the monster to the chase. 

The hellish creature lunged through the water, pounding the earth with every step, determined to have you for lunch.

It was going to beat you to the gap. You’d be trapped.

You were going to die.

There was a sudden, blinding beam of light from over the wall. Like a white rod of lightning, it blinded the Skull Crawler for the merest fraction of a second, inciting its howl of monstrous rage at being suddenly unable to see.

It was just enough.

Conrad pulled himself up onto the bank, dragging you with him as you stumbled over your feet. Your clothes were drenched. You could feel the extra weight of every drop as you sprinted, hand in hand, and ducked into the gap inside the wall.

You felt the wind of the monster’s movement and the splinters of wood as it clawed at the wall in a vain attempt to reach you. It howled in rage, loud and terrifying enough to turn your blood cold, even though you were out of its reach.

You didn’t stop running. You and Conrad sprinted through the tall grass even though your lungs were burning. As you ran, you looked up at the bridge of _The Wanderer_ , where one of the old fog lights burned brightly in the dark. After a few more seconds, it shut off, the halo of light burned into your retinas.

There was no change in pace until you reached the stone structure. Conrad dragged you inside, slamming the door behind him for good measure, his chest heaving as he leaned his head back against the wood.

You coughed, leaning down with your hands on your knees for a moment to catch your breath. Your hand was stiff from being gripped so hard, clothes sticking to you and dripping onto the dirt floor.

“Insane,” he gasped, speaking between breaths. His muscular chest expanded as he tried to level his breathing, his own shirt skin-tight and soaked. “I told you.”

“I’m sorry,” you coughed in reply, putting one hand on your throat and screwing your eyes shut. After a few more seconds, the burning in your lungs subsided. You took a deep, measured breath and set down your bag, which felt unbearably heavy.

“I got what I wanted, didn’t I?” You added belatedly, relishing the ability to talk at a normal volume. You reached up and undid your hair, wringing it out with shivering hands. 

Conrad shook his head against the wood before opening his eyes and looking at you. “Nearly at the cost of our necks,” he countered, pushing himself off the wall and stepping towards you. You took an instinctive step back. Had he always been this tall?

“You’re mad,” he continued, taking another step. This time you forced yourself to stand still, trying in vain to calm your heartbeat as you stared up into his dark eyes. The light trickling in from outside illuminated only the outlines of his face: the curve of his jaw, the angle of his cheekbones. His hair was curled from the water and his skin glistened in the dark.

“You love me, though,” you said quietly, raising your eyebrows in an illusion of bravado. But your voice gave you away – so small, and so timid, that you hardly heard yourself. 

Conrad chuckled, shaking his head and averting his gaze. He fidgeted, catching your hands by the fingertips and holding them loosely, turning them over in his palms. They were tiny in comparison, and shaking from the cold. 

He looked up at your face again, squinting in the dark. “There’s hardly any light in here,” he murmured, skirting around the subject.

You raised your eyebrows and your face flushed. “Oh, I… here. ” Grateful for a distraction from his electrifying touch,, you reached deep into the pocket of your cargo pants. Your fingers wrapped around the cold, familiar metal that you had fingered and toyed with over the last year, longing for its owner.

You pulled it out of your pocket and pressed it into his palm.

“It’s yours,” you murmured, watching his face carefully. Realization dawned on his features and you saw his eyebrows raise in the dark as he flipped it in his palm.

“I gave it to you, didn’t I?” He asked, shaking his hand to dry it before flicking it open with his thumb. It sputtered to life, illuminating the room with its small golden flame and casting a soft shadow on his face. In the new light you could see the tremble of Conrad’s chest as he inhaled, the bobbing of his adam’s apple when he swallowed. He was nervous– far more nervous than he had been in the face of death.

You nodded in response, finding yourself closer to his lips than was good for talking. “As a promise,” you reminded him.

“Did I keep it?” he asked, his mouth barely open. His blue-green eyes kept flickering to your lips. “My promise.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but couldn’t find the words. You were too focused on the closeness of Conrad’s lips, the remembrance of their taste. It roused a deep, warm feeling in the pit of your stomach, the kind that made your heart skip and your limbs tremble. His eyes kept flickering to yours, torn between the beauty of your face and the tantalising temptation of your kiss, until you were only centimeters apart. You could feel his breath on your skin, raising the fine hairs on the back of your neck. He was so close.

The door opened. Slivko held up a torch, panting, and looking between the two of you with a confused stare.

“L/N? Are you guys okay?” He asked. “Marlow, uh, thought you might be out there and he turned on the fog light. Scared one of the monsters away.” 

Conrad pulled away from you, and it felt like the breath left your lungs.

“Yes, and it saved us. Thank you,” he added, clasping his hands behind his back and clearing his throat.

Slivko glanced between you and Conrad, blinking in the dark. He pushed his red headband up his forehead. “Uh huh. Well…”

“…we’re coming back, yes,” Conrad nodded, looking to you with a completely professional expression. “Are we finished here, Nurse?”

 _Absolutely not_ , you wanted to scream.

“I think so,” you smiled politely, picking your bag up and following Slivko out the door. Conrad trailed behind you, his footsteps shadowing yours as you walked along the path towards the ship. The grass whistled softly in the wind.

You were wringing out the fabric of your shirt when you felt Conrad’s hand wrap gently around your wrist, and press the lighter back into your palm. You glanced up at him in alarm. 

Was he giving it back? What did it mean? You knew your heart would break if he refused you now. 

“James?”

He put a finger to his lips, nodding to Slivko just a few meters ahead of you. Then he squeezed your hand comfortingly, warm and lingering, before letting go.

“It’s yours,” he murmured, raising an eyebrow as you walked. A hint of a smile on his lips. “For insurance. You won’t lose me again.” 

You smiled in the dark.


	4. Chapter 4

It was Conrad who roused you from sleep the next morning.

After the events of the night previous, you nearly collapsed from exhaustion as soon as you came onto the bridge. It took all of your willpower to drag yourself to a suitable sleeping spot instead of curling up on the floor. Conrad had settled you into a cot, answered everyone’s questions about your excursion, and insisted on quiet for your sake – not that it mattered, really. You fell asleep as soon as you closed your eyes.

Now, it was late morning. Sunlight streamed through the holes in the metal ceiling, illuminating pillars of dust. For an island that, thus far, had proved constantly noisy, this little sanctuary was mercifully quiet. It almost made you feel like you weren’t trapped on an island at all. You were somewhere safe and warm and loved.

Conrad lent you his jacket in the night. The familiar scent of cologne had permeated the dreams you were already forgetting; all you knew was that he’d been in them.

You stirred from sleep when a gentle hand tucked a strand of hair from your face. Your nose scrunched and you reached up to push the hand away, eliciting a chuckle from Conrad. He knelt down in front of you and raised an eyebrow.

“I’m afraid you’ve slept long enough, Y/N.”

The gentle utterance of your first name roused you enough to open your eyes. You were immediately thankful in doing so: Conrad’s face in the morning light was a sight to behold. His expression was soft and unlined as he looked at you, blue-green eyes gentle with fondness, a rare smile on his lips. You could never get tired of looking at it.

“Psh,” you responded dismissively, shaking your head and smiling as you turned onto your back and breathing in deep. Your eyelids felt heavy. There was a temptation in the illusion that you were somewhere safe, somewhere close to home, that encouraged you to go back to sleep. You knew why. It was Conrad: knowing that you were safe with him. At home with him. In love with him.

Conrad watched you fondly as you blinked the sleep away and sat up with a yawn. As you tied back your hair, the light made your silhouette glow in a soft halo of warmth. It was like staring at something heavenly. He wondered in silent awe at how fortunate he was, to know and love someone like you. Someone who could silence him with a smile or a single word. 

He had fallen for you completely, heart and soul surrendered. For the first time in a year, Conrad felt like himself again.

“I’m not letting you slip through my grasp,” he vowed aloud. His gentle words broke the gentler silence, but they surprised you nonetheless, and your eyes snapped up to look at his kind, lovestruck expression. 

Your face flushed and you looked away, gazing around the disheveled room. 

The two of you were alone.

“Is everyone waiting?” You asked, pulling on your bomber jacket. He was still looking at you, of course, but you couldn’t bear to return his glance – if you got lost in his eyes, you might never come out again.

“More or less,” He admitted, watching you avoid his gaze. It hurt, but he understood. These things took time. For all he knew it could be years before you trusted him again; loved him again. But for you, he would wait forever and a day.

Conrad stood, offering his hand out to you. He pulled you to your feet, handing you your backpack. “Come on. We’ve no time to lose.”

You watched him turn to leave. 

“Wait,” you said, when he was halfway to the door. Conrad stopped and turned around, looking at you with a confused expression.

“What is it?” He asked.

Those damn eyes. Staring at them brought your train of thought to an abrupt halt. You shook your head quickly, forcing your mind to clear before you tried again. The anxious sea of emotions in your chest came to a crest. You swallowed. You looked up.

“Aren’t you going to kiss me?” You whispered.

Your voice came out softer and less confident than you’d intended, but he heard. Conrad’s lips parted in surprise and his eyes searched yours for a long, silent moment.

He closed the difference between you in a few strides, cupping your face and stroking your cheeks with his thumbs. His normally stern face held only tenderness. You could feel how warm he was through the touch of his hands. Suddenly the empty room felt very small.

Conrad’s gaze flickered to your lips and back up again. There was a cautious hesitance in his countenance: lingering doubt. The icy hold of grief. He still wasn’t sure if you loved him. 

You certainly weren’t going to wait for him to decide for himself.

You reached up and pulled him down by the collar of his shirt, your lips crashing together. He met you with a quick inhale and a tightening of his hands as he slid them down to your waist, pulling you against him and deepening the kiss.

You relished the taste of his lips, the pleasant flutter of your stomach when his fingers dug gently into your back. He toyed with your lips and smirked when you snuck your tongue into his mouth. The low, contented hum in his chest alone was enough to make you melt. 

Yes, these things took time. But not as much as he’d thought it would. As the two of you stood alone in the sunlit room, your armor fell away for good.

You finally pulled away to catch your breath, gasping and smiling in spite of yourself. He leaned his forehead against yours and exhaled with the same shakiness, cradling your body against his. He laughed, a bit giddily, the same way a person does when they’ve found something long lost and sorely missed.

You closed your eyes and buried your face in his chest, wrapping your arms around his neck, wanting nothing more than to be held. He obliged, muscular arms wrapped around you with no intention of letting go.

For all you cared, this moment could last forever.

After what felt like blissful eternity, Conrad pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, rubbing small circles in your back with his thumb.

“They’re waiting,” He murmured, obviously mournful in mentioning it.

You sighed, nodding against his shirt. “I know.” You looked up and stared into his eyes without reserve, allowing yourself to get lost in them for the first time in so long. It was funny – once you surrendered, it was easier to pull away.

You inhaled deeply and reached up to thumb over his brow, smoothing out the furrowed lines. “You know that when we go back, we can’t be…” You faltered a little. “Like this.”

Conrad nodded and looked down, running his hands down your arms to grasp your your fingers. His hands engulfed yours. “And you’ll have other missions after this,” he assumed.

You blinked. “No, this– this is the last one.”

His eyes looked up in surprise. “You mean–” he stopped midway, not daring to finish the sentence. Not daring to hope.

You nodded, biting your lip and smiling. “I’ll be decommissioned. We can do whatever we want,” you whispered, watching his eyes turn misty as his smile grew. “Just us.” 

Conrad gasped shakily and pressed a fervent kiss to your lips. You laughed against him until he pulled away, your hands on his chest.

“Just us?” he reaffirmed, inhaling deeply. You nodded, and he grinned. “I daresay I can wait a few days for that.”

“Can you?” You chuckled teasingly. You picked up your rifle and slung the strap over your shoulder.

“Have you so little faith in me?” He smirked, following you down the metal stairs. You laughed. It felt good.

The two of you smiled and joked until the boat came into sight. Sobering up reluctantly, you squared your shoulders and cast him a final heartfelt glance. He met it in understanding, with a small nod and a reassuring smile. To everyone else, you were a field nurse and a tracker– in no way affiliated, not even friends.

It hurt like hell, pretending you weren’t in love with him.

You could hear the clamor of voices and the whirring of the boat’s machinery as you approached the river’s edge. Mason waved at you from the deck, camera around her neck.

“Let’s go! Keep moving!” Slivko shouted, trying to crank the engine to a start in what appeared to be the second attempt. Conrad leapt aboard and took over, his muscular arms straining as he wound the coil tight as it could go.

The engine whirred, choked, and faded, but Slivko was undeterred. “Third time’s the charm, here we go, here we go!” He shouted, clapping his hands together.

You hopped aboard and took the lever with Conrad, using all your strength to help him give it that final push, everyone working together. There was a fading, a faltering – and then the engine sputtered to life.

“Yes!” Slivko shouted jubilantly, pounding his hands on the metal. “Yes!”

Mason whooped and LandSat Supervisor Nieves almost broke down in tears of relief. You let go of the lever and rubbed your sore hands together, laughing with the rest. Conrad’s eyes caught yours, and you shared a smile.

The laughter died down as Marlow untied the boat from the dock. You cleared your throat, blowing a piece of hair out of your face, and moved past Conrad to find a place to sit. Slivko grinned at you before pulling himself up on top of the boat’s rounded roof, the radio in his lap. You gave him a cheeky wave.

Marlow pulled the rope on board as the boat began drifting away, looking up at the Iwis with teary eyes. “I guess this is goodbye,” He said, with a wobbly smile. “If you’re ever in Chicago, look me up, I guess.”

You smiled faintly at the bittersweet farewell while he watched the bank, the boat drifting away with the current. Weaver held up her camera and there was the faint click of a photo taken – the only artifact of Marlow’s _adieu_ to his home of twenty-nine years.

The wall that guarded the valley opened up like a gaping mouth to let the riverboat pass underneath. You glided smoothly under its shadow and out into the open wetlands. Suddenly you were on your guard again, looking around in wariness. The sight of the where you’d almost died last night turned your mouth dry. Your heart quickened with anxiety and you dug your thumb into your palm.

“L/N,” Conrad said softly, loud enough only for you to fear. You looked up at him with anxiety plain on your face, and found that his eyes held a message of comfort. He gave you a small nod, a half-smile: all he could get away with. But you knew what it meant.

So long as James Conrad was around, you’d be alright.

~

By mid-afternoon your anxiety had subsided. Nothing remotely alarming had happened while the boat carried you steadily upriver. In fact, you were beginning to feel the faintest, smallest hint of boredom.

So you made yourself busy. You were sitting on the deck, backpack between your legs, organizing its contents to accommodate for the samples collected from last night. Marlow was sitting nearby, rambling on amiably to nobody in particular– but you were listening. 

“I’ve got a wife,” he mused. “Have a wife. _Had_ a wife?” He shook his head and looked down at an old, faded picture in his hands, before turning his gaze out to the water. “Guess I don’t know anymore.”

Conrad stood at the helm listening, one hand resting idly on a baseball bat tied to the wheel while the old man prattled on.

Marlow looked up at the two of you, smiling. “Got hitched right before I deployed. Got a telegram from her the day I got shot down, said ‘we just had our baby boy.’ I’ve got a son out there.” He scoffed lightly. “Grown man I’ve never met.” 

“Yeah, she definitely thinks you’re dead, man,” Slivko chimed in from on top of the riverboat, fiddling with the radio. Conrad hit the roof with the back of his hand. “Hey,” he chastised.

“I’m just saying!” He protested.

“You don’t know what,” Conrad argued, looking back at Marlow and raising his eyebrows. “You’d be surprised how long people wait.”

You looked up, staring at Conrad, and he gave you a cheeky wink. Your face flushed, and you ducked your head quickly, pressing your lips together so that you wouldn’t smile.

“Ah, truth is, I don’t expect ‘em to be waiting,” Marlow admitted, shrugging his shoulders. “I’d be fine either way. I just want one last chance to see ‘em. That’d be good enough for me.”

“We’re gonna get you home,” you said reassuringly, and looked up to give him a comforting smile.

Suddenly the radio in Slivko’s lap came on with a buzz of static. “ _Fox Five, come back. Is anyone out there?_ ”

Slivko grabbed the radio phone so fast that he almost knocked the entire thing out of his hands. “Hey! Hey, this is Fox Five, we hear you! Yeah!” He said, talking a mile a minute. “We’re on a boat. We’re on a boat headed north, going upriver.”

Mills’s voice came through over the radio. “ _Where’d y’all get a boat?_ ”

“We met this, like, crazy Santa Claus, time-traveler guy from World War II, you’ll meet him.” 

“ _What kind of boat y’all got?_ ”

“It’s more of, like, a plane than a boat really,” Slivko admitted. You pressed the back of your hand to your mouth to suppress a snort as he tried to explain it. “Let’s call it a ‘ploat.’ We’re on a ploat.”

“We need their location, Slivko,” Conrad reminded him, spinning the wheel with one hand as the river came to a bend up ahead.

Slivko nodded quickly, stammering. “Uh, send up a flare, so we can find you,” he relayed over the phone.

“ _Roger that, Fox Five_ ,” Came Colonel Packard’s voice.

There was a not-so-distant boom as you turned around the bend, and the trail of a red flare shooting upwards dead ahead of you.

“Yes!” Mason shouted jubilantly, grinning. Slivko put down the radio and raised his hands to the sky. You felt a surge of relief, letting your shoulders drop and smiling openly.

“We’re going home!” Nieves shouted gleefully, before a giant, yellow bird sunk its claws into his shoulder and pulled him off the boat.

The joyful mood disintegrated in an instant.

“Get down!” You shouted, jumping into action. Slivko leapt onto the deck, reaching for his gun at the same time as you and Conrad. All three of you took aim, watching the birds as they carried a screaming Nieves up into the air. But it was too late to shoot – they were swarming, taking the LandSat Supervisor higher every second. There was no saving him now. 

Nieves’ screams halted suddenly and terribly, and your stomach turned over in your chest.

“What the hell, man?” Slivko choked, his gun still raised. Conrad took the barrel of his rifle and pulled it down gently, shaking his head.

“I feel sick,” you muttered, lowering your M16 and sitting back down in defeat. You put your head in your hands, pressing the back of your hand against your mouth to stifle the nauseous reaction in your gut.

“He’s gone,” Conrad said, with an air of both regret and matter-of-fact. “Everybody, grab your gear. We have to keep moving. We’ll go ashore, meet up with Packard.”

“Wait a minute, _wait a minute!_ ” Brooks protested, gesturing wildly at the sky. “Is nobody gonna say _anything_ about the – the –” he grasped for words to describe what you all had just witnessed. The birds were still swarming above, blocking out the sun.

“He’s gone!” Marlow snapped. “And he ain’t comin’ back. There’s nothing to say.”

Conrad glanced at you, your hand still pressed against your mouth as you bounced your knee. His heart swelled painfully and he reached out to comfort you without thinking.

Your eyes snapped up at the touch of his hand, and he realized his mistake in an instant, pulling away like lightning. You watched him turn and head up the deck, staring at his back for a moment before rubbing your neck and sighing. 

Your eyes caught Mason Weaver’s from across where you were sitting. Her brow furrowed and she glanced between you and Conrad in confusion. You could see the gears in her mind turning as she tried to connect the dots.

You pressed your lips together and zipped up your bag, pulling it on as the boat came up to the shore.

The two of you needed to be more careful.

~

The forest was unusually quiet– the usual hum of bugs and birds was diluted to a mere murmur, and it was putting everyone on edge. You knelt at the bank of the river, filling up your water pouch, growing more restless by the second.

“Their flare was only two clicks north. They should be here soon,” Conrad said, hands on his hips as he looked out over the water.

“Unless they were eaten by something that’s bigger than us,” Mason muttered, fiddling with the lens on her camera. Slivko and her leaned against a boulder, both looking dejected. Then again, none of your group was in high spirits.

Somewhere in the woods, the sound of snapping branches and rustling underbrush rang out. Amidst the silence, it felt loud as gunfire.

You stood up slowly, raising your M16 as the source of the noise approached, your heart beating faster every second. Your breath was shallow and steady, but your fingers fumbled with your gun, and you feared the worst– whatever the worst could be.

“Holy shit!” Slivko said, pushing off the boulder and running across the bank. Colonel Packard and the rest of Griffin Co came out of the trees. Their hardened faces softened when they saw your group, and broke into smiles when Slivko ran towards them.

“Slivkoooo!” Reyes shouted, holding out his arms to embrace Slivko as he skidded to a stop on the rocky shore.

“I thought you were taking a dirt nap by now, Sliv.”

“Man, I thought I’d never see you guys again.”

Colonel Packard looked up and you saluted sharply. He waved you away dismissively. There was something different about the Colonel, but you didn’t have time to think on it – you were too busy being embraced and jostled around by your friends, who were whooping exuberantly at yours’ and Slivko’s survival.

You laughed and tried to answer everyone’s questions and hello’s, before finding Mills in the crowd and embracing him.

“Man, I can’t believe you made it,” he grinned.

“Seriously?” You scoffed, pulling away. “I’m made of stern stuff, you know that.” You narrowed your eyes when you realized that his left eye looked injured. “Hey, wait a minute.” You grabbed his face and turned his head back to you, narrowing your eyes as you assessed the damage. 

“She’ll fix you up, man,” Slivko nodded sagely, crossing his arms and smirking.

“Lookin’ forward to it,” Mills muttered.

Randa stumbled over to Brooks, shaking his hand fervently with the fellow scientist.

“I thought you were crazy,” Brooks gasped.

“I wish I had been,” Randa admitted.

Colonel Packard nodded to Conrad, leaning against the butt of his rifle.

“What’s your count?” Conrad asked, raising an eyebrow.

“What you see,” Colonel Packard said, looking back at you and the other soldiers, “Is what I got.”

“We lost one, too.”

“Good to see you fellas,” Marlow introduced, smiling a bit nervously as he stepped forward. Colonel Packard looked up, adjusting his gloves.

“Who the hell is this?”

“We picked up a hitchhiker,” Conrad said.

“Luitenant Marlow of the 45th Pursuit Squadron of the 15th,” Marlow recited formally, tugging at his uniform.

“You’ve been here since World War II?” the Colonel asked skeptically.

“Yes, sir,” Marlow nodded, giving him a tremulous smile. “I miss the parade?”

Colonel Packard scoffed, shaking his head and narrowing his eyes. “I’ll be damned,” he murmured. “Snap to, Luitenant.” The two saluted each other.

“We’re gonna get him home, sir,” Conrad said, pointing downstream. “If we follow this river, we’ll come to the boat, and we’ll make it to the north shore in time.”

Colonel Packard nodded as he listened, looking down and adjusting his sleeves. “That sounds good.” He looked up, smiling an odd smile. “But we’re not leaving yet.”

Conrad’s face turned to confusion as Packard continued. “Still got a man out there, Conrad.”

Conrad’s brow furrowed. “Wait a second, you’ve got someone out there?”

You paused in looking at Mill’s eye and turned to listen, dropping your hands.

“Chapman,” Packard nodded. A few of the soldiers nodded at the name. “He’s with the downed Sea Stallion just west of here.”

 _The Sea Stallion_ , you repeated silently. Your medical supplies were on that helicopter.

“West?!” Marlow exclaimed. “We can’t go west! That’s where those skull things live! We have an old saying here, ‘east is best, west is worst!’ That’s why we say it!” He chuckled nervously, shaking his head and gesturing with his hands as he talked. “You know, southwest… we could talk about that. But you’re gonna need a lot more guns if you’re gonna go west.”

You pressed your lips together and eyed the Colonel with uncertainty. Weaver, who had been sitting and listening silently for the past few minutes, stood to her feet.

“Guys,” she confessed, “I think we should listen to Marlow.” She looked between Colonel Packard and Conrad. “This is crazy.”

You agreed with Weaver silently. What mattered most was getting off the island; but were duty-bound to follow the Colonel. Conrad, on the other hand, was not.

Conrad put his hands on his hips and tightened his jaw, frowning at the ground in thought. The rest of the group looked between the two of them with uncertainty– up until now, it had been clear who was in charge. Now it seemed like there might be a rift inside the group. And if the group split, you knew who you had to follow.

Packard snapped his fingers in front of Conrad’s face to catch his attention. “Hey.” 

Conrad looked up at Packard, pressing his lips together. 

“Your job is finding lost men, right?” The Colonel asked, somewhat rhetorically.

He looked away. He tapped the toes of his boots into the ground, hesitance clear on his face. You watched him thinking it over, silently willing for him to oppose: as a non-military person, he was the only one who could, and the only one who stood a chance of convincing the Colonel to change his mind.

Conrad thought for a moment longer before he finally relented and looked back up. “Okay, Sir.”

You sighed quietly and closed your eyes.

“But if we reach that position and he’s not there,” Conrad continued, “We don’t send out a search party. We’re back here by nightfall, understood? In twenty-four hours we have to be on the other side of this island.

“Roger that!” Colonel Packard grinned, with a little too much pep for your liking. “Here you loud and clear.” He turned back to your company. “All right, you heard the man. Moving out in ten.”

You and Slivko exchanged a look, and you tightened your jaw. “Here, Mills,” you murmured, gesturing for him to take a seat and kneeling down on the ground. You took off your backpack and pulled out a tiny flashlight, shining them into his eyes one at a time. 

“Yeah, your left retina is damaged pretty bad,” you murmured, turning off the light and rifling through the contents of your bag. “Anything else giving you grief?”

“Just the Colonel,” he muttered under his breath, and you shot him a warning look. While Mills and Slivko were your closest friends of the group, and often shared the same opinions, that didn’t make it any safer to share insubordinate thoughts.

You pulled some tabs from your bag and set them in his hand, along with your water flask. 

“Mild painkillers,” you explained, clapping him gently on the shoulder. “Tell me how you feel in an hour, okay?” 

You moved on to survey the rest of the group. Cole had no complaints. Reyes was the only other one in need of attention – his side had been grazed in the helicopter crash and the bandage around his waist was in dire need of antiseptic and re-wrapping.

You were finishing the new bandage when you heard Conrad’s footsteps behind you. You tied off the bandage and nodded to him, zipping up your backpack and taking the water canister back to the stream. You knelt down on the riverbank, uncapping it and glancing at Conrad out of the corner of your eye. It was an opening to talk.

He knelt down beside you, holding out his hand for the flask. You handed it to him, watching him stare out across the river with a defeated expression.

“Don’t forget to tell me this is a bad idea,” Conrad murmured, taking a drink and handing it back to you.

“This is a bad idea,” you deadpanned quietly, refilling your flask and sealing the cap. You looked up across the river, and into the depths of the forest. There could be anything beyond those trees; any number of monsters. 

You had to face facts. It would be a miracle if you got off of this island alive.


	5. Chapter 5

As you and the group travelled west across the island, the feeling of dread in your stomach began to tie itself into knots. 

Everyone but Colonel Packard and a few of the soldiers were visibly on edge. No one would meet your eyes, focused instead on the forest around them, and what could possibly be in it. Particularly what wanted to eat you alive.

You took solace in walking with Conrad. You couldn’t imagine what it would be like, stuck on this island without him. But he too looked tense, every tone muscle in his body taut like a coiled spring. If Conrad was nervous, how could you not be?

The trees thinned. The air was thicker, and sick-smelling somehow. You began to pass huge, moss-covered pillars that jutted from the ground: giant bones. Thousands of them. They were overgrown by vines and trees, the only remnants of ancient creatures long-dead – and whatever had killed them.

You came over the crest of a grassy hill and your breath caught when you saw the valley below. 

Filled with putrid smoke, polluted with gaseous vents and littered with the monolith bones of two former giants, the smell alone was enough to make you gag. The bones of the giants were still bloodstained. It may have been years since they’d died, but not so long ago that whatever killed them hadn’t stopped gnawing on their bones.

“You smell that?” Marlow said in disgust. “That’s death.” 

“What the hell is this place?” Slivko asked weakly, pushing up his bandana and looking like he might throw up. 

“This is what’s left of Kong’s parents,” Marlow said, clenching his jaw.

“I’ve taken enough photos of mass graves to recognize one,” Weaver deadpanned. She stared ahead with a sour expression. The mood of the group dropped even further and settled into heady discontent.

Colonel Packard, on the other hand, was unfazed. “The crash site’s just on the other side of this valley,” He nodded, gesturing to the terrain below you with his rifle. “We’ll cross through and make it to the highest point west.” 

You looked down into the crater of bones, which was so polluted by fumes that you could hardly see into it, much less across to the other side.

Yeah, this was not a good idea.

Marlow gaped at the Colonel, astounded that he was still set in his course. “Uh-uh,” he said, shaking his head, vocalizing your thoughts. “This place is a real no-no, sir.”

“We need to be going to the north side right now!” One of the LandSat scientists piped up quickly, riding the wave of insubordination.

The Colonel turned to look at him sharply. “And you’re welcome to do that, my man,” he snapped. “By yourself!” 

He turned back to the rest of you, looking from face to face obstinately. “Now who’s with me?”

The soldiers looked between each other with uncertainty. You and Mills glanced shared a glance and he gave you a severely disgruntled look behind the Colonel’s back.

“We can make it,” Conrad said. His eyes were fixed on the valley. Your mouth opened in shock and you stared at him, screaming in silent disbelief.

 _Are you kidding me?_ You thought.

Conrad glanced at you and tightened his jaw.

“Mighty right, we can make it,” Packard nodded. “Now, stay sharp, keep an eye out.” And with that, he began walking down the hill. 

Most of the soldiers fell into line automatically, some more reluctantly than others. You stood on the ridge for a moment, looking at the path ahead. Marlow adjusted his cap with a stony expression.

“I’ve only been here twenty-eight years, what do I know?” he muttered, shaking his head and following them downhill.

You sighed, rubbing your face and shaking your head into your palm. Everyone else began the descent. You felt the ghosting touch of a hand on the small of your back as Conrad passed you, glancing up to make sure you would follow.

“Stay close?” He said, raising his eyebrows. _A promise._

The two of you had already made so many promises. 

You nodded. “I will.” 

~

The air was thick with smoke. Your vision was dangerously cloudy– you could see only a few yards ahead. The ground itself was treacherous. There were random outcroppings of rock and half-buried bones, and giant, gaseous vents that seemed to go on to the center of the earth.

The group kept a loose single-file behind Packard, treading softly along the floor of the valley. Everyone with a weapon in their hands held it raised, attentive and on edge.

Gradually, you spread out. Your breathing became a little less quiet as you grew more familiar with your surroundings. For the moment, there were no monsters around. It gave you time to scope out your surroundings. You were quietly stunned at the amount of dinosaur bones and other geological marvels littering the ground like discarded baubles. This place was an archeologists’ dream – if their dream included meeting monsters face-to-face.

Soon, the only sound wasn’t your own measured breathing. A few of the soldiers were brave enough to talk in low murmurs as they walked in groups. Randa’s flash camera made a high-pitched whine every time he took a photo.

Your backpack was much heavier than before your groups had joined up together– you and Slivko had taken on some of the weight of Griffin Co’s cargo. Bullets and gas cans, mostly. Not for the first time, your thoughts drifted to the medical bag stored in the Sea Stallion with Chapman. 

If you made it that far, at least you’d have something to look forward to. The constant discomfort of being parted from your tools was not a feeling you wanted to get used to.

Conrad stood alone, kneeling on the ground and pressing his hand into the dirt. You made your way over to him, watching as he pondered over an enormous, three-clawed footprint pressed into the earth.

 _Like I needed a reminder that Skull Crawlers are here,_ you thought, and shivered.

You looked away to distract yourself and saw Mills nearby, walking slowly alongside Cole as the older of the two lit a cigarette.

Mills turned and saw the stick dangling from Cole’s mouth, and his expression turned to indignation. “Cole, we don’t got time for that, man,” he chastised quietly. “Put the cigarette out.”

Cole paused in lighting the cig and stared at him for a moment before reaching up, taking a drag, blowing a puff of smoke, and then discarding it with an absentminded flick of his hand. 

There was a boom as the cigarette’s ember flame ignited the gas coming from the vents. A fiery cloud blasted against your front and you turned away, ducking down to avoid the flames.

You coughed as the smoke cleared and looked up at Conrad, who held his shirt over his mouth, looking watery-eyed.

“Watch those fumes!” Randa shouted from across the field, shaking his head and mumbling something under his breath. The camera in his hands fizzed and sputtered as the lightbulb flickered.

“Let’s go!” Packard called through the smoke, rallying the group to him. “We gotta move!”

Conrad coughed and dropped his shirt, standing up. The two of you jogged back to the group, falling into line and catching your breath. Everyone else did the same. 

Just as your boots found their rhythm, you heard a familiar sound: hollow screeching in the distance.

Your blood ran cold.

There was a split-second of silence where nobody breathed. Conrad had already moved towards you in one step, shoulders squared and gun raised protectively.

Then Marlow shouted, “ _RUN!_ ”

You and Conrad sprinted through the smoke, dodging giant pillars of bone as they appeared through the fog.

“Here! Hide!” He said, pulling you down with him against a fragment of skull. It was curved inward, just big enough to shield the two of you when crouched down and pressed together.

Your heart was pounding out of your chest and you struggled to catch your breath. The Skull Crawler screeched again: closer, this time.

“Shhh,” he soothed, reaching a hand out to squeeze your leg before he shifted his grip on his rifle and tightened his jaw, leaning his head back against the bone. 

It was silent as a tomb. You forced yourself to calm down as the monster came closer, its heavy footsteps reverberating through the ground. Every pounding step drove fear into your mind like a hammer to a nail, until it was right on top of you. 

The monster’s throat warbled in a howl loud enough to burst your eardrums. Your own terrified shout was lost in the noise as you buried your face against Conrad’s shoulder. You felt his hand squeeze your thigh.

The roar changed into a disgusting, retching sound. Its muscled throat convulsed and, in a spray of bones and stomach acid, it disposed of what it couldn’t digest.

You pulled away from Conrad’s shoulder and stared at the bones tumbling across the ground, rolling to a stop in front of you.

Among them, a skull.

Around it, a dog tag. 

Dripping with acid, the punched letters read: _Jack Chapman, Lieutenant._

You put your hand to your mouth to stifle a whimper of horror.

“Breathe,” Conrad whispered. His grip tightened when the Skull Crawler retched a final time. Its muscled throat warbled, and with a swing of its tail, it thundered off.

It felt like eternity before the rumbling of the monster’s footsteps subsided. Then, silence.

Conrad let out a breath he’d been holding and pulled you against his chest. Your bottom lip trembled and you fought down a wave of tears, nearly overcome by the feeling of near-death. He reached up to cradle your head, hand tangled in the loose strands of your hair.

“Shh. It’s all right,” He comforted, pressing a kiss to your forehead and exhaling heavily. 

“Rally up! Rally up!” Came Colonel Packard’s voice. 

You forced yourself to pull away from Conrad and stand, fighting the taste of bile that came whenever you thought about Chapman. Conrad snatched up the tangled dog tags and shoved them into his pocket, following behind you.

“Somebody cover the civilian’s six, let’s move!” The Colonel ordered. You beckoned to Weaver and the others to follow you.

They came quickly – all except Randa, who lagged behind. He lingered in front of one of the dinosaur skulls while trying to take a picture. The flash bulb of his camera popped again, and began to malfunction, flashing at random. He turned it around. The bulb flashed. There was a low warbling behind him.

You turned around just in time to see the Skull Crawler’s giant mouth snatch Randa from thin air, throwing him from side to side before engulfing him whole. As he travelled down the monster’s throat, the camera’s lightbulb flashed erratically, glowing underneath the reptile’s skin. 

Everyone opened fire. The Skull Crawler screeched, swinging its heavy tail towards you. You ducked, feeling the wind as it passed inches above you, before the gunfire drove it way and into the smoke.

“Set up the 50!” Packard ordered. A few soldiers jumped to the task of anchoring a 50-caliber machine gun to a half-buried skull, but everyone else stood still. 

The silence was deafening. Your sweaty hands gripped the cold metal of your gun, finger floating above the trigger. In the distance, the camera flashed. Again. And again. The monster was moving quietly now– the only way to know where it was hiding in the smoke was the telltale whiz and pop of the lightbulb.

Beside you, Mills was sniffing as he tried to keep his composure. Slivko was on the verge of the same mental breakdown. You would have offered words of comfort, but you were feeling just as terrified.

Suddenly the Skull Crawler screamed and charged out of the smoke.

“Run!” You shouted, sprinting away immediately while the other soldiers opened fire. Mills followed you, catching up when you took cover behind a curved rib. The two of you gasped for breath, watching as the Skull Crawler rammed into the dinosaur skull where the 50-cal had been firing away and doing no damage. 

It caught one of the soldiers with its teeth as he flew through the air. He disappeared with a sickening crunch. The Skull Crawler snarled, and set its eyes on another target: Mason Weaver, who was armed with nothing but a camera.

Your eyes widened and you jumped to action. “Stay here!” You told Mills. You ran out from your cover and followed the Skull Crawler as it chased her. She wasn’t stupid: she ran from cover to cover, dodging the monster’s snapping jaws until there was nowhere left to run.

Mason slid underneath the curved ribcage of one of the skeletons, buying herself a fraction of time. The Skull Crawler smashed into the bones with terrifying force and began digging at her with its claws. She screamed, covering her face while its powerful jaws snapped and frothed angrily.

You skidded to a stop next to one of the soldiers, who stood dumbfounded.

“Torch!” You screamed, snapping him from his trance and pointing to the chemical backpack he was wearing. “Now!”

He let fly a sea of flames, dousing the Skull Crawler in fire.

It worked– to distract it, at least. The Skull Crawler shrieked angrily, digging its claws into the ground before swinging its monstrous tail and sending the flamethrower flying. You watched, mouth dry, as he fell into one of the vents.

An explosion rocked the ground and blasted you several feet backwards. Slivko went flying, landing on an unforgiving outcropping of bones and rock. 

Slivko didn’t get up. The contents of his backpack spilled onto the dirt: punctured cans of toxic gas. They whistled dangerously, like a kettle sitting on the stove for too long.

You groaned and pushed yourself off the ground, trying to ignore the high-pitched ringing in your ears. Your head throbbed as you came unsteadily to your feet. 

_This is too much_ , you thought weakly, leaning against a bone pillar and trying to snap out of your dazed state.

You heard Conrad’s voice cut through the air. “Slivko!” he shouted, but his voice fell on unconscious ears. “Gas!”

You watched the cans burst in an explosion of green. 

Clouds of poisonous smoke filled the air and you pulled up the fabric of your shirt to cover your mouth. A whirlwind of yellow birds appeared out of nowhere– the very same terrors who had devoured LandSat director Nieves only hours earlier. They dive-bombed at you and the soldiers, and a fresh wave of terrified screams filled the valley. 

Meanwhile, the Skull Crawler was fully enjoying the hunt: chasing down man after man, devouring them in a single bite. The screams would haunt your nightmares.

As soon as your vision cleared, you took your own gun and aimed – not at the Skull Crawler, that was a lost cause – but at the birds. Mills and Cole did the same. They fell out of the sky one-by-one. You were no excellent marksman, but you could hold your own. That is, until something distracted you.

You saw Conrad out of the corner of your eye as he sprinted past, picked up a gas mask mid-run, and pulled it onto his face before charging into the smoke. You watched him in horror. Saving Slivko or not, it was reckless and unspeakably dangerous.

You weren’t about to let him go alone.

Pulling on a mask of your own and shooting at the birds as you ran, you sprinted through the gas. He had Marlow’s sword in his hands, using it deftly the cut down the low-flying monsters.

 _When did he learn to use a sword?_ You wondered vaguely.

As Conrad plowed ahead, you raised your gun and shot the birds that he missed, keeping them off of his back. 

The two of you came out of the gas at the same time. You pulled off your gas mask, and sucked in the fresh air, coughing. 

“Slivko!” Conrad shouted, spotting his unconscious body lying in the dirt. You dropped your mask and ran to him, landing on your knees. 

“C’mon, Sliv,” you urged, pulling him onto his back. He stirred and mumbled something incoherent. You gasped in relief, shifting him into a sitting position as he regained consciousness. “That’s it. Easy,” you soothed. His head was bleeding profusely.

“Help me get him up,” you instructed. Conrad obeyed. You both looped Slivko’s arms around your shoulders and pulled him up.

“Hang on, Sliv,” you stalled, reaching frantically into your pockets for something to wrap his head– gauze, cloth, anything. 

Somewhere in the distance, Colonel Packard’s voice rang through the valley. “This thing’s moving!”

You barely had time to feel dread before you saw the silhouette of the Skull Crawler coming towards you, jaws gaping. Rows and rows of teeth flashed in its bloodstained mouth. Its forked tongue lashed out and it screeched, churning up the earth beneath its feet. 

Your hand felt something cold and familiar in your pocket.

Without any warning, you dropped Slivko’s arm and pulled the lighter from your pocket, running towards the Skull Crawler.

“Y/N!” Conrad shouted, his voice cracking in terror, as he watched you run to you doom.

You skidded to a stop as the Skull Crawler appeared in the gas and pitched the open lighter as hard as you could.

One little flame, but it was enough.

The lighter arced through the air and flew into one of the vents. An explosion, bigger than any of the others before, rocked the ground below you and caught the Skull Crawler in its wake.

You, Conrad, and Slivko flew back through the air. They landed on their backs against the softer ground, coughing and groaning as they came to their senses.

You weren’t so lucky.

Your back slammed against one of the giant, half-buried ribs and there was a sickening _crack_. Pain shot up your left leg like a bolt of lightning.

You hit the ground and everything went black.


	6. Chapter 6

When you came to, the pain immediately distorted your senses. Every nerve screamed at top volume. The taste of iron flooded your mouth. You could barely feel Conrad’s hands cupping your face. His voice, frantic and desperate, sounded like it was deep underwater.

“ L/N! _Y/N_!” He urged. He looked over your face, trying to rouse you. Your eyes were glazed and unfocused– obviously in shock –and possibly with a concussion to add to your mounting list of injuries.

Conrad forced himself to pull away and assess your other injuries. The inner side of your left thigh was sliced open, soaking your cargo pants in deep, dark red. The sight of it made his mouth go dry with fear. There was no time to lose.

Conrad snatched your bag and rifled through it, swearing under his breath. He knew so little about this. The most recent medical experience he had was a year ago: saved by your hands, when you mended a gaping wound in his chest.

Would he be able to return the favor?

Conrad’s thoughts were interrupted when he felt your cold grip on his wrist. 

He looked up and his face paled at the sight of you: eyes glossy and wet, lips cracked and trembling. You looked scared and in pain, and it broke his heart.

“Hey, hey,” he soothed, setting the bag aside and scooting closer to you. He pushed your hair back from your eyes, holding your cheeks when you coughed hoarsely.

“W– where’s S-Slivko?” You managed between coughs. Your entire body felt bruised and beaten. Tears escaped your eyes despite your best efforts to put on a brave face, and you wiped them away hurriedly. 

“He’s alright. Better than you,” he confessed, unable to hide the fear in his voice. “Y/N, your leg–” 

“The Skull Crawler?” You interrupted, voice cracking.

Conrad clenched his jaw and nodded. “Dead.”

A shaky gasp of relief escaped your lips. You leaned your head back and closed your eyes.

Your nerves felt fried at the ends. Your left leg was angry and inflamed, and had no problem telling you so: the pain was like static, blocking any thoughts or words from getting through. You forced yourself to take slow, measured breaths, clenching your jaw on every exhale. 

“Damn it,” Conrad muttered to no one in particular, his voice laced with frustration. He’d discovered how few supplies you were carrying. 

Taking matters into his own hands, he undid his belt and pulled your left leg towards him to fasten it as a makeshift tourniquet. But at his touch, you let out an involuntarily scream and lurched forward as a jolt of pain shot up your leg like splintered lightning.

Conrad caught you against him, gasping as a fresh wave of tears flooded your eyes.

“What did I–”

“Morphine first,” you choked, shaking your head and pointing. “In the bag.” 

He obeyed, reaching away with one hand and finding a syringe. His other arm stayed wrapped around you, refusing to pull away. You clung to him for dear life, doing everything you could not to sob outright. 

“Y/N,” he asked gently, holding the clear syringe.

You reached out and took it. Your hand was shaking so badly that you almost dropped the needle, but you were used to working against adrenaline, and stabbed it none-too-kindly into your good leg. You couldn’t even feel the sting of the needle.

The morphine flooded your system, dulling the edges of your burning nerves. You took a deep, shaky breath, letting your head drop onto his shoulder. It took every ounce of willpower not to cry aloud. Conrad drew comforting circles in your back that you couldn’t feel, whispering gentle words that you couldn’t hear. Ash fell to the ground like snow, and you waited.

This was the tricky part. 

You needed to give the morphine time to take effect, but not too long, or you’d lose too much blood and go into hypovolemic shock. The pain was like being caught in a storm out to sea: you dove beneath the waves, came up for air, and went under again. Right now, Conrad was all that kept you from being dragged to the bottom and drowning.

You focused every ounce of your mind on counting the slow seconds. You could feel Conrad’s heart beating out of his chest. He smelled like smoke and firewood, like the jungle after rain. You thought about the first time you met– the very first time you looked into his eyes and found yourself speechless.

 _He called me ‘astoundingly beautiful,’_ you thought to yourself numbly. It almost brought a smile to your shaking lips. 

One hundred and twenty seconds. You took in a shaky breath and nodded against his shoulder. 

Conrad eased you up again, letting you hold onto his arm while pulling the belt around your leg as carefully as he could. Ash fell in thick clouds around you like summer snow, a silent aftermath of the storm. The valley was eerily quiet, but neither of you had time to notice or care.

Conrad secured the belt and began to pull it taut. You held onto his arm and watched numbly as he worked, swallowing the bursts of pain when they came. Gradually you found more space in your mind to think. Right now, you were thinking that the belt was far too loose. 

“Tighter,” you coughed. His beautiful blue-green eyes looked up at you with concern.

“Are you sure–”

“Just… yes,” you managed, inhaling deeply. “Please.”

Conrad’s eyes flickered for a moment before he took hold of your hand, wrapping it around the belt so that you could feel the pressure. “Tell me when,” he instructed.

You nodded. Conrad mustered his resolve and pulled tight as he dared on the tourniquet. You waited until it your leg gone sufficiently numb. No doubt the morphine was finally taking effect, too. 

Though you didn’t dare say it aloud, you were almost certain that your femur had fractured. Painkillers or not, if you couldn’t walk, you were good as dead.

You put your hand over his, and he stopped, securing the belt before pulling out a pocket knife. He cut away the soaked fabric of your hands while you held to his free hand. You steeled yourself for the sight beneath the camo fabric.

Conrad sucked in a quick breath when he pulled the knife away, revealing a messy, jagged wound along your inner thigh. The bruising and swollen skin around the wound confirmed your suspicions.

“Fuck,” you whispered, biting your lip. _What am I going to do?_

Conrad took some of the torn fabric and soaked it in rubbing alcohol. You watched the lines of his handsome face deepen when he concentrated. His eyes were dark and resolute. He cleaned the skin around the cut carefully, flinching when he thought he’d hurt you– but there was no sting. Only a faint, strange sensation that your body _might_ be in pain.

Cole’s voice came through the smog. “Over here!” He shouted, beckoning to the rest of the group as he came into view. Slivko and Mills were behind him– at the sight of you, they rushed to your side.

“How the hell…” Mills murmured, gaping at your leg as Conrad wrapped it carefully. His fingers brushed the skin of your thigh, and you shivered.

Slivko cast you a concerned glance. “That looks… broken,” he said slowly, like he was afraid to admit it. At this, Conrad glanced up at you, but you answered with only a thin smile.

“I’m okay,” you lied reassuringly. 

“Good,” Colonel Packard said, striding up and giving you a quick once-over. “We head out in ten.”

Slivko and Mills muttered something insubordinate to one another, and Mills followed the Colonel reluctantly. Cole gave you a half-smile, half-grimace, and did the same.

Conrad finished wrapping your leg and exhaled heavily, pressing his lips together. He looked up at you and raised his eyebrows. “Can you stand?” he asked gently.

You put on your bravest face. “Let’s try it.”

Slivko and Conrad were at your side, looping your arms over their shoulders and pulling you up. You stood on one foot, coughing a little and taking a moment to adjust. Sitting frozen on the ground for so long had made your whole body stiff.

Despite the feigned confidence, you knew full well the state you were in. Your left femur was probably broken. They didn’t know that yet – but as soon as you put your foot down, they would.

“L/N,” Conrad uttered, rousing you from your thoughts. You turned your head and looked up into his face, realizing that you hadn’t moved for almost a minute. “Do you need me to carry you?”

The tenderness in his voice brought sudden tears to your eyes and you shook your head, clearing your throat. “No. No, let’s - let’s try, first.” You stared at the ground like it was miles away, feeling like you were about to jump out of a helicopter.

You set your foot down. Nothing.

You put your weight on it, fraction by fraction. Nothing– at least, not when you had two men supporting most of your weight, and had a full dose of morphine coursing through your veins.

A shaky gasp of relief escaped your lips. “Ohh, okay,” you breathed, crying a little. “That’s good.”

“What is?” Slivko asked, looking at your leg. “It’s not broken?”

You shook your head, swallowing. “No, it-” you swallowed. “It is. But it’s a bending fracture.” You tried to ignore the heat of Conrad’s stare, and gave Slivko a comforting smile. “If I keep up on the morphine, I’ll be fine.” 

“Slivko!” Mills shouted distantly. Slivko’s eyes darted to you and Conrad with a torn expression. Conrad nodded, and Slivko darted off.

As soon as he left your side, you collapsed. Conrad was there to catch you, lifting you up in one swift move and holding you against his chest, your arms looped around his neck.

You coughed and your chest shuddered, swallowing down your tears. “I’m okay,” you fibbed tremulously.

“Y/N,” he whispered. His normally strong, accented voice was so small, it broke your heart.

“I’ll be okay,” you insisted stubbornly. You were lying through your teeth, and you both knew it.

Conrad exhaled softly and closed his eyes, his nose brushing against yours. There was a beat of silence as he held you like he was afraid of letting go. 

“I made you a promise,” he said finally. His blue-green eyes gazed at you tearfully. His voice caught. “We’re going home, together. I swear.”

“I know,” you said quickly, trying your best not to cry, too. His shirt was bunched up in your fists and you wrinkled your nose, sniffing. “But James, if I–” 

“Don’t,” he said firmly, pulling you closer to him and burying his face in the crook of your neck. You felt so small. You of all people who seemed so steadfast, so solid. He couldn’t recall you ever feeling so dangerously frail. 

No. You wouldn’t slip through his fingers. Not again. Over his dead body. 

~

The sun was close to setting as you and the remaining survivors stood amongst the peeling trees.

“Now, look, Colonel,” Marlow said testily, “You may outrank me, but I’ve been here a hell of a lot longer. And I’m telling you that thing that just shredded us was only the first of them. Now we’re on their turf, and we need to turn back. _Toot sweet_!”

“Not as long as Chapman’s still out there,” Colonel Packard argued stubbornly.

Conrad held you against him as you stood on your good leg, listening to the conversation. You felt dizzy and light-headed – side effects of the morphine. While you had discovered that you could walk on your own, you weren’t going to needlessly overexert yourself, and leaned on him whenever you could.

“I’m sorry, Colonel Packard,” Conrad said, fishing the dog tags from his pocket and holding them out. “Chapman is dead.”

The other soldiers looked stricken. Packard stared at the dog tags for a moment with an unreadable expression. Then he shook his head. “Doesn’t change a thing,” he declared. “We’re still going to that crash site.”

“What’s at that crash site that you want so badly?” Conrad asked. You could feel how tense he was beneath your grip, his patience hanging by a thread.

“Weapons!” He shouted, like it was obvious. “Enough to kill it!”

“Kong didn’t kill Chapman,” Conrad argued, his jaw tightening. 

“But he _did_ kill these men,” Packard said, holding up a bundle of dog tags in his gloved hand. “ _My_ men.”

Marlow interjected. “You can’t kill Kong, Colonel!” he cried hysterically. “Kong is god on this island! He’s the only thing keeping them lizard things in the ground!”

“He’s right, Colonel,” Brooks added hastily. “We can’t kill Kong. Now, that other creature? That’s the threat. And there are more of them down there. If you take away a species’ natural competition, they’ll proliferate out of control!” 

“Then we’ll end, them, too!” Packard said. “After we bring this thing down!”

Marlow had obviously heard enough. He drew his sword from its sheath, brandishing it at Packard. It glinted dangerously in the evening light. “I can’t let you do that, Colonel.”

The other soldiers raised their guns at Marlow, and the tension escalated.

“Hang on! Hold your fire!” Conrad shouted, stepping out and leaving you standing on your own.

Colonel Packard slammed Marlow with the butt of his rifle. The Lieutenant crumpled and fell to the ground. 

Packard whirled around to the rest of you, gripping his gun. “This is one war we are _not_ gonna lose!” He shouted.

“NUTS!” Marlow roared. “YOU HEAR ME? THIS IS NUTS!”

“Please!” The geologist next to Brooks cried. “You need to listen to us!” 

“We’re not at war, Colonel, you’re making a mistake!” Brooks insisted.

Packard raised his gun at Brooks, his eyes sparking dangerously. “Your lies got my men killed,” he snarled.

“And you’re gonna get us all killed,” Mason Weaver seethed, stepped in front of Packard. The barrel of his gun was pointed at her chest, but she didn’t waver.

Conrad reached forward and dragged Weaver away. Packard’s aim shifted to him. 

“Not our fight,” he scolded Weaver, watching Packard like he was a wild animal in his path.

Packard narrowed his eyes. “Whose side are you on, Captain?”

Conrad exhaled sharply and nodded. “Okay, Colonel,” he said, pointing west. “You’ll find your Sea Stallion three klicks up that ridge. Now, I’m going to take these civilians back to the boat, and we’ll wait for you there.” He raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Alright?”

There was a solid minute of silence. Colonel Packard’s gun didn’t move from Conrad. Your heart jumped into your throat, and you took an unsteady step forward, fearing the worst. Everyone stood still, waiting for the pin to drop.

Packard lowered his gun. 

You let out a shuddering breath and put your hand on your chest as a wave of relief washed over you. Commanding officer or not, there was no denying that Packard was losing his grip. You didn’t want to be around when he came completely unhinged.

“Saddle up!” Packard shouted. “Let’s go kill this thing.” 

Conrad stood still for a moment more before he looked back to you, walking over and catching your arms.“Listen to me. You have to be careful,” he begged earnestly. “Come back quick as you can.”

You gave him a confused look, holding his hands under the pretense of needing balance. “What do you mean?” You asked, searching his eyes. Then it dawned on you. He was taking the civilians back to the boat– yourself not included.

“Be careful,” he repeated, as Slivko came to collect you. Slivko pulled your arm around his neck and nodded his head in the direction of the soldiers. “They’re heading out, L/N.”

“No, wait,” you cried, reaching for Conrad. Your fingers brushed his before he pulled away, and he gave you one last glance. The meaning was clear on his face, plain and painfully raw: _I love you._

You nodded breathlessly. _Me too_ , you thought, willing your eyes to convey it to him as Slivko guided you away and you faced the setting sun.

When you looked back, he was gone.


	7. Chapter 7

Without Conrad, trekking through the jungle was even harder than you’d anticipated. Finding someone to support your physical weight was easy enough. The emotional weight of being apart from him was something different entirely. Your heart was aching at the thought of him: the soft accent of his voice, his sharp jaw and blue-green eyes. The tenderness in his touch despite the calluses of his hands. The curve of his lips when he gave you that small, secret smile only you were allowed to see.

So much lost time to make up for between you two. You silently resolved that if you ever got off this island, you’d kiss those lips for days.

The group stopped to rest. Slivko and Mills to make a splint for your leg, so that you could walk on your own – albeit at a limp. Your mobility wouldn’t be possible without the morphine, either, and you were down to your last dose.

 _Just one more thing to worry about_ , you thought.

The sunlight was growing dim as you hiked further uphill. As the sun set, the trees around you turned red and orange. The morphine was beginning to wear off, too, and faster than you desired. Every step became more and more difficult, more painful. Quite frankly, you were sick and tired of pain. 

The distorted warbling of the Sea Stallion’s broken speakers echoed through the forest like the voice of a ghost. The closer you came, the louder it got, until finally you spotted the green and orange helicopter through the foliage. 

“Gather up everything you can, including those seismic charges,” Colonel Packard ordered. “They got his attention the first time.”

The soldiers got to work. Slivko helped you sit down inside the helicopter, which seemed mostly intact. It was full of crates and barrels of seismic charges and napalm, secured in place by a frayed net. Slivko jumped up onto the platform, stepping through the boxes and looking around. 

Mills stood outside and stared at the contents of the Sea Stallion, unenthused. “This is a bad idea,” He muttered.

“Let’s just get on with it,” Cole replied, ducking his head and climbing inside.

Slivko came back with your medical bag– a small, camo duffle with a red cross on the side. You unzipped it and gasped in relief, finding everything exactly where you’d put it: in particular, more morphine. You found the bag of painkillers, acquired a needle, and administered another shot to your thigh with practiced efficiency. 

Slivko watched on, pushing up his red headband. “How often do you take the injections?” He asked. His voice held a notable tone of worry.

You glanced up at him. “Every four hours.”

His brow furrowed.“But it’s only been… two and a half since the last time. Maybe three.”

“Don’t worry about it, Sliv,” you said casually, returning the needle to its case and examining the rest of the bag’s contents. There was gauze, antiseptic, bandages, atabrine, and more than enough morphine to see you through until you got off the island. It was an enormous relief.

Slivko put his hands on his hips and watched the soldiers roll the barrels of napalm down the platform, carrying them down the hill. He turned back to you. “What’s that?” he asked, pointing to the atabrine.

“It’s for malaria. I gave you your shot before we left,” you replied easily. Slivko had always felt like a little brother, for whom you had a good deal of patience and affection, so you didn’t mind his questions. 

“And that?” he asked, gesturing to a bottle of clear fluid with an orange cap.

“That’s naloxone. It’s in case of opioid overdose,” you said. You paused, pressing your lips together and thinking for a moment before beckoning for Slivko to sit down. “C’mere. I’ll show you.”

He sat down. You pulled out an empty needle and twisted the naloxone open, handing it to him. “Have you used a needle before?”

“Yeah, but not in my arm, or anything.”

“That’s fine. Naloxone works intramuscularly, so you can inject it into other places. It just doesn’t take effect as quickly as it would through a vein.” You pointed to the side of your leg, where you’d been self-administering morphine, to your shoulder, and other common points of injection.

“Besides,” you added, “I don’t think I want you messing with my veins. You might punch through one. No offense.” 

“None taken,” he smiled, before his expression turned more serious. “But…. you’re not gonna overdose, are you?”

You shook your head. “Don’t worry,” You began putting the contents back into your bag. “It’s just good for you to know. I can’t be the only one who knows all this.”

But that wasn’t entirely true. You were cutting it close with the morphine and you knew it. 

There were several factors that determined your wellbeing, and very few of them within your control. Pain would only slow you down, and if you were slow, you wouldn’t survive – even more than that, the makeshift splint needed to hold. Any wrong move, bad fall, or general upset could shift the bone out of place and cut off your femoral artery. If that happened, it would only be a matter of minutes before you bled to death.

Even by mediating the pain and treading carefully, you had to face facts. Your chances of survival were at a record low.

~

Conrad and Weaver stood on the precipice of a cliff, looking down at the river below. Night had fallen some hours ago. The moonlight, bright and cold, illuminated the water through the fog, casting everything in a misty blue glow.

Conrad exhaled softly and forced himself to focus. He was having a hard time distracting himself from thoughts of you, and it showed – he’d taken more wrong turns than he could count, missed and misread signs that led the group in wrong directions. Finally he snapped out of it long enough to find the river, and now tried once more to force his thoughts away from you. 

“The boat must be around that bend,” he said, pointing. Weaver nodded, raising her camera. The shutter clicked.

Conrad heard Weaver’s breath snag in her throat and looked over. She lowered her camera slowly and the two of them watched, wordless, as Kong tread slowly past, almost close enough to touch. He paid them no mind. The creature really was a giant – standing as tall as the mountains around him, every step shaking the earth. But unlike Colonel Packard’s thinking, they both knew the truth: that the giant was by no means evil, merely a king in his own domain, in which you were all trespassers.

Breathing quietly, Conrad’s eyes followed the direction of Kong’s path. With a sudden feeling of dread, he knew exactly where Kong was headed: to the bursts of explosions in the distance, lighting up the blue night with fiery clouds of orange and red.

Kong let out a roar of anger, his giant teeth bared. Conrad’s throat tightened in fear. Colonel Packard was trying to draw Kong out, and you were there with him– which meant you were in mortal danger.

Conrad turned and began heading down the mountain. Weaver spun, following him as fast as she could. 

“What are you doing?” She shouted, leaping precariously from boulder to boulder, struggling to keep up.

“We have to go– now!” He responded, landing on flat ground and sprinting through the trees. He couldn’t keep himself from you any longer – not when he might be the only one who could save you.

~

You stood in the grass behind a wall of fire, watching the seismic charges go off in clouds of orange and red. Packard was adamant about drawing Kong out, despite everyone else’s inhibitions. Were you in better shape, you might’ve considered a coup de tat. Now, however, you were in no condition to do anything of the sort. 

Despite how anxious you felt, your heartbeat was unnaturally slow. The constant injections were beginning to show their uglier side effects: fatigue, blurred vision, nausea. At the moment, you had no time to worry about it. 

Beside you, Mills practically vibrated with fear as Kong came into sight. He roared again once he spotted your group, and stormed through the water just like Colonel Packard had planned. Your hands adjusted their grip on your gun and you resisted the strong urge to flee. 

For what wasn’t the first time, you wished Conrad were here with you.

~

Conrad and Weaver came running down the mountain so fast that they almost tumbled when they reached the rest of the group.

“Don’t shoot!” Conrad shouted to Brooks.

Brooks lowered his with an exasperated expression. “Conrad, where are we going?”

“You three need to go back to the boat,” Conrad said, leaning on his knees to catch his breath. He pointed with one hand. “It’s that way. Wait for us till dawn. If we’re not back by then …” he shook his head, swallowing. “Just go.”

Brooks scoffed. “You ain’t gotta twist my arm.” He picked up his bag and headed down the mountain, followed by the geologist San. 

“Wait, where are you two going?” Marlow asked, rising to his feet.

Conrad and Weaver exchanged a glance.

“We’re going to save Kong,” she replied, nodding resolutely.

And Y/N, Conrad thought grimly. 

Marlow smiled. “Not without me, pal.”

~

You watched as trees fell like windblown grass beneath Kong’s feet. He stopped a hundred yards from your company, staring intently at Packard, who stood in front of you with a fiery torch in hand. The air was charged with electricity, waiting for a lightning strike.

Then he charged.

You and the other soldiers faltered backwards as he came closer, stumbling over your feet. Colonel Packard, however, stood still as stone. He watched Kong storm through the water, shaking the earth with his roar, and he waited. And waited.

And then he through his torch into the water.

The napalm that had been poured onto the surface of the water by Slivko and the other soldiers lit up, engulfing the giant monster in flames. 

You watched, horrified, as Kong let out a roar of pain. He struggled to fight through the flames before their heat engulfed him and he disappeared from view. Your fellow soldiers had similar expressions on their faces – terror mixed with sympathy. He didn’t deserve this.

Packard was completely enthralled by the Kong’s roars of pain. A mad grin was stuck to his face, stretched from ear to ear and completely manic.

He’d lost it.

Suddenly, Kong came through the fire again with renewed anger, and flung the boiling water at the riverbank. You shrieked and tried to duck away from the flames, falling backwards. You fell hard against the ground as your surroundings lit up in flames. A few of the soldiers immediately succumbed to fiery deaths. Their screams of agony filled your ears as a different fire burned in your leg, burning with renewed pain. 

Then Kong fell. 

Overcome by the fumes and the fire, his body came crashing down on the shore and the ground shuddered beneath his weight.

You tried to stand and gasped at the fresh wave of throbbing pain as it hit your body. Your bone had obviously shifted. You strained forward and peeled away the bandage with shaking hands, fearing the worst– that your artery had been cut off.

The world didn’t stop for you, and neither did Colonel Packard. “Men! Place your charges!” he shouted. “It’s time to show Kong that man is king!” 

“Armed one,” Mills said, as he turned on the charges.

“Armed two,” came another.

You grimaced at the sight of fresh blood on your skin, swallowing another wave of discomfort mixed with relief. Your wound had reopened, but it didn’t look like the artery had burst.

“Armed three,” Slivko said, looking at you with an expression of _are you okay?_

You didn’t see it. You were entirely focused on unzipping your bag as quickly as possible, finding a roll of gauze and wrapping your leg. Your hands found the fresh gauze when Conrad and Weaver charged through the trees and into the clearing.

“Packard!” Conrad shouted. Your eyes snapped up, and you froze. 

Packard looked up slowly, detonator in hand. Conrad raised his rifle, chest heaving, and pointed it at Packard.

The other soldiers raised their guns at him automatically. The sound of several firearms cocking at once made your heart jump into your throat. Your hands stilled, half-finished with their work, as you watched the scene unfold: the man you loved held at gunpoint by half a dozen soldiers.

Slivko stood next to you, his eyes darting back and forth as he struggled to stay composed. Seeing the hesitance in his face and the fumbling of his fingers put him in a different light: he was no soldier. Only a kid. 

Marlow appeared out of nowhere, catching Reles and Slivko by surprise. He pointed his pistol at Slivko, raising his eyebrows when Slivko’s aim left Conrad for Marlow instead. “I asked you fellas nice the first time,” he pointed out. 

“We don’t want to fight here, Packard,” Conrad said. His eyes flickered momentarily to you before he focused on the Colonel again.

“This thing brought us down!” Colonel Packard argued, pointing the detonator at the lifeless body of Kong strewn halfway up the bank. “It killed my men!” 

“Kong was just defending his territory!” Conrad snapped, exasperated and desperate. 

“We are soldiers!” Packard’s eyes twitched and his lips curled as the last threads of his sanity unravelled. “We do the dirty work, so our families and our countrymen don’t have to be afraid! They shouldn’t even know a thing like this exists!” 

“You’ve lost your mind,” Conrad said, shaking his head and breathing heavily. He took one hand off his rifle, holding it out. “Put that detonator down.”

Time stood still. Slivko sniffed audibly as he struggled to keep his aim straight, blinking the sweat out of his eyes. The moon hung in the sky while the fire burned in patches of grass, setting everyone’s silhouettes in blue and orange light. Nobody moved.

Packard’s face contorted in a snarl and he pressed the button on the detonator. It whined, rising in pitch as the countdown ticked.

“Stop!” Weaver shouted, breaking the terrible silence. “The world is bigger than this.”

“Bitch, please!” Packard scoffed indignantly. “Slivko, get her out of here!” 

But Slivko didn’t move. His hands were shaking violently as his eyes darted from face to face, the scales weighing heavy in his mind. He glanced at you in confusion and fear. You nodded, giving him a pointed look: Trust yourself.

“You know it’s the wrong thing to do, son,” Marlow encouraged gently.

Slivko stared at him for a beat of silence. You saw the moment when his eyes solidified, and he reached a decision.

Slivko turned his rifle on Packard. “P-put it down, sir,” he stammered, as bravely as he could.

Packard automatically reached for his gun.

“Packard!” Conrad urged. The Colonel froze, like he’d been knocked out of a stupor, and slowly let go of his pistol. 

Everyone lowered their guns, save for Conrad, who kept it pointed at Packard. You allowed yourself to relax by a fraction, gathering up the gauze in your hands. 

At that moment, the water in front of you began to bubble and smoke. There was a giant surge from beneath the river. A geiser of water shot up into the air. It evaporated into clouds of mist, moving away with the wind, and revealing the cause of the eruption: a Skull Crawler like you’d never seen, three times larger than the others.

“That’s the big one,” Marlow choked.

So much for a moment of safety.

“Fall back,” Conrad ordered. Nobody moved. “GO!” He shouted. This time, Slivko and the others obeyed, taking off into the trees. Only you, Packard, and Conrad remained.

The giant Skull Crawler’s throat clicked and warbled as its raised its head to look at the night sky, which was turning from blue to rosy with the dawn. It howled.

Conrad’s heart stalled in his chest. He turned to Packard and held out his hand, beckoning for him to run. “Colonel,” he urged desperately. The Skull Crawler howled again, loud enough to burst your eardrums. 

“ _Sir_!” He shouted.

Packard didn’t move.

Conrad waited until he couldn’t anymore, his eyes darting between you and Packard until finally he shook his head and left him where he stood. He ran, scooping you up with one arm and grabbing your bag with the other. You shrieked at the sudden movement, clinging to him for dear life.

“Kong’s down, let’s go!”

You broke through the trees and Conrad set you down, chest heaving. You stumbled, holding onto him and blinking hard. There were white specks floating around your eyes, blurring your vision.

Conrad glanced down at your leg: the bandage was half-wrapped and reddening, hanging in tatters. He dropped to his knees, letting you lean against him while he tied it secure. His large hands shook with adrenaline, but they moved carefully so that he wouldn’t hurt you by mistake; Even in the most dire moment, he was tender in his care and conscious of your pain.

He tied the bandage off and lifted you up again, more carefully this time, and nodded to one of the nearby hills. “This is the edge of the island,” he said. “Weaver, get up on those rocks and fire a flare. With any luck, Brooks’ll see it.” 

There was the sound of something big coming through the forest behind you, and everyone jumped. Your breath shuddered and you tightened your grip around his shoulders. 

“We’ll buy you time,” Conrad promised. Weaver nodded and took off. Conrad adjusted his grip on you and beckoned for the others to follow him, heading into the wetland. “This way.”

You locked your arms around his neck as he ran alongside the bank, swallowing the pain of every jolting step. Behind you, you could hear the roars and crashes of the two monsters coming together in epic battle – but honestly, you didn’t care. All you were focused on was staying awake and hanging onto Conrad as he plunged into the water, wading towards the edge of the island.

You closed your eyes and buried your face in the crook of Conrad’s neck, wishing yourself away from it all. You were so tired: tired of pain, tired of running from things that wanted to eat you, and _very_ tired of hiding your affection for the man you loved. Your heart beat slow and steady in your chest, and you breathed in deep. He smelled like home. 

You heard a sudden burst of gunfire and raised your head. Marlow’s boat come into sight around the bend: Brooks was at the helm, firing away at the machine gun anchored to the front of the boat.

“Come on! Let’s go!” Conrad urged, directing everyone towards the boat. The two monsters were fighting too close for comfort, sending shockwaves through the water that made it difficult to board.

Conrad lifted you up onto the deck and you pulled yourself into a sitting position, your legs hanging off the side. You grabbed Slivko’s hand and pulled him up, reaching for Mills. Your bandage was looking worse now – deep red and caked with dirt. The pain was beginning to sharpen like a blade, growing less dull with every stroke against the whetstone. 

You had no tolerance for it. Opening up your backpack, you pulled a syringe from its case and injected another dose of morphine without thinking. 

Conrad was lifting himself onto the boat, his muscular arms flexed, when the gun stalled and stopped firing. Brooks fumbled with the controls, trying to start it up again. 

Marlow pushed him aside. “I got it! She’s temperamental- watch out!” 

Suddenly, the Skull Crawler was coming towards the boat, undeterred by the ship now that the gun wasn’t working. You face paled and you grabbed Conrad’s hand automatically as anxiety rose in your chest and your throat constricted in fear. You noticed the absence of Kong to distract the monster from you.

You scanned the wetlands, finding Kong struggling to break free from the wreckage of several freight ships. Their anchoring chains were wrapped around him, holding him down in the water. He roared. Step by step, the Skull Crawler came closer. One by one, the chain links snapped.

Just before the Skull Crawler was within tail-swinging distance you heard Weaver’s flare gun fire again. The flare landed right in the Skull Crawler’s eye socket, exploding on impact. It screamed, raking its own claws across its face to try and dislodge the burning flare.

“Clear!” Marlow shouted, finally unjamming the gun. The rapid fire resumed, and you relaxed slightly.

The Skull Crawler howled in anger and snarled at you, coming towards the boat despite the array of bullets.

You felt Conrad’s hand leave yours. He pushed away from the boat without a word of warning, sprinting through the water.

“James!” You screamed, ripping at your own throat. The Skull Crawler’s massive head turned, and it followed him, leaving you and the boat behind.

Before you could move, Kong freed himself from the chains and threw something – a rusted freight propeller – lodging it in the Skull Crawler’s side. It fell with a deafening screech.

Conrad stopped running, gasping for breath and watching the two monsters resume their fight. They wrestled across the wetlands, dealing blow after blow with deadly intent, but neither could bring down the other. 

Your head was swimming. The cacophony of noise constantly vibrating through your body was making you sick to your stomach. Despite the humidity, your skin was covered in a thin, cold sweat.

Kong threw the Skull Crawler against one of the mountains and sent an avalanche of rocks into the water. You heard Weaver scream across the valley and turned, watching her fall through the air before she hit the water.

Your nurse’s instincts kicked in and you felt a sudden surge of adrenaline. “Head for shore!” You shouted frantically, snatching up your bag and bracing yourself as the boat sped up and turned. When it was a few yards away from solid ground, you dropped into the water, moving as fast as you could. The monsters kept fighting, sending huge waves across the wetlands that helped push you forward.

Conrad shouted across the water, catching up to you as you fought towards dry ground. “What are you doing?”

“Helping!” You responded, dragging your bad leg and coming up onto the shore unsteadily, duffle bag in hand. Conrad came up behind you and lifted you up, surging out of the water. 

You pulled away from his grasp and dropped to the ground in front of Weaver, who laid unconscious halfway on the shore. You pushed her hair away from her face and checked for vitals. 

She wasn’t breathing.

You took a pulse check with shaking hands and began CPR, pumping on her chest. As you tried to restart her heart, your own heartbeat felt dangerously slow. You were seeing double, but it was inconsequential– what mattered now was keeping Weaver alive.

Somewhere in the moment, the fighting had stopped. Everything around you was far too quiet– there was only the sound of your shallow breathing, and Conrad’s footsteps as he returned with Weaver’s camera in hand. 

Suddenly Weaver lurched upwards and you caught her, helping her onto her side as she coughed up water and choked on air. 

“Easy, just breathe,” you heard yourself murmuring, but it didn’t sound like you – your own voice was distorted and far away in your ears.

Weaver coughed. Her brown eyes blinked and came into focus, looking up at your face. When they did, her eyebrows pulled together. 

“L/N?” She asked, her voice laced with worry.

You opened your mouth to respond, but couldn’t find your words. It was like your tongue had turned to lead. You began to lose your grip.

Too little blood, too many injections – and the thought occurred to you too late.

“L/N?” Weaver repeated urgently. Her eyes darted from your face to your leg– the bandage was drenched with crimson. She looked up at Conrad desperately. “She’s falling–”

He caught you in his arms. “Y/N, Y/N, stay with us,” he urged, pushing your hair from your face. Weaver’s eyes filled with panicked tears and she stood up on wobbly legs, waving to the boat. “Help! Over here!”

Conrad lifted you up and ran towards the water. Slivko helped pull you onto the deck and lay you down on the surface. Your breathing was shallow. You could barely feel your heart pumping away in your chest. Your grasp on consciousness hung by a thread.

“What happened?” someone asked. 

“I don’t know,” Weaver’s voice came, sounding muffled and distorted. “She … and then–” 

“–lost too much blood–”

“–find the bag–” 

“–nalo-something, there–” 

“Hang on,” Conrad’s voice came, like a gentle wave over the sand, pulling you back to reality. You could feel him holding you in his lap, the panicked rising and falling of his chest, the tender touch of his hands on your arms. The smell of sandalwood and smoke. Everything about him felt like home. 

Conrad watched your beautiful eyes unfocus and come back as you tried to stay awake. You were still fighting, bless your heart. Conrad’s chest tightened and he swallowed thickly, pushing down a wave of emotion. He tightened his grip around you, whispering assurances as Slivko shuffled through your bag. Your head fell back against his shoulder and you let out a shaky, jagged breath.

Conrad slid one hand down your arm and wrapped his hand around your wrist, feeling your pulse. He prayed silently to anyone who was listening: _not her. Please._

Slivko worked fast as his hands would allow, uncapping the orange bottle from your bag. Weaver helped, pulling away the splint and unwrapping your bloody bandage.

Conrad stroked your hand, feeling the coldness of your skin, the almost-indiscernible slowness of your pulse. Tears filled his eyes and he inhaled quickly, willing them away.

“You remember my promise?” He said, loud enough for you alone to hear. His normally steady, accented voice trembled with emotion. “We’re going home. You and I. Wherever you want to go, I’ll follow.” His lips trembled and he raised your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss against your palm. 

“It’ll be alright,” he whispered, kissing the top of your head and fighting against his tears. His heart felt wrenched and pulled apart. “We’re going home.” 

You didn’t respond. Your eyes had closed, your breath scarce and fading fast. You were somewhere far away: somewhere deep and dark and painless, dreaming of the man you’d lost and found again, the man holding you in his arms while you faded, whose voice you could hardly hear. Dreaming of coming home. 

But they say no man comes home from war. Not really. 


	8. Chapter 8

The helicopters spotted your boat and took you back through the storm– Conrad refused to let go of you the whole way, cradling you against his chest and murmuring words of comfort when the thunder shook the helicopter. 

Once you landed on the _Athena_ , he leapt out, running across the tarmac with you in his arms. The skies were grey and the ocean unnaturally still.

Conrad took you inside and laid you down on the cot provided, his heart careening wildly inside his chest. His lungs heaved, half-tired and half-panicked, and he ran his hand up and down your arm in some sorry attempt at comfort.

He grimaced as the doctor on board cut away your bloodstained clothes, revealing mottled and bruised skin around your broken bone. She pressed cardiac monitors to your chest, working so fast that Conrad could hardly follow. He’d seen you work like that before– back when you’d first met. His breath caught at the thought of it, and he forced the image away. 

“When did this happen?” the doctor asked, hooking up your vitals and pressing a needle to your vein, starting a blood transfer. 

Conrad blinked, shaking his head and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Oh. Uhm… coming up on twenty-four hours.” 

“She walked on this leg?”

“Yes. And swam,” Conrad said numbly. “She, erm…” his voice cracked and he trailed off, clearing his throat. He couldn’t bring himself to speak further without crying.

The doctor ignored him and glanced up at the cardiac monitor, watching the moving lines. “She’s failing,” she said, alarmed, running to one of the cabinets and snatching a bottle from the shelves.

Conrad’s breath caught in his throat and his eyes darted from the monitor to your face, which was grey and shining with sweat. He watched your chest rise and fall erratically– a long pause, a sudden inhale, and a shaky exhale, to another, longer pause. His hand gripped yours tightly. Your skin was cold.

The line on the monitor went dead and rang out in an alarming, high-pitched whine.

Conrad’s throat constricted with fear and he opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. His hand reached for yours, fearful beyond words.

 _No,_ he thought faintly, as tears filled his eyes. _No, no, you couldn’t be_. 

The doctor pushed him away from the cot and he stepped back, watching with blurred vision as she injected something into your arm and began attempts to restart your heart. He pressed his hand to his mouth and exhaled shakily, choking as his heart tearing in two. He couldn’t look away. 

The minutes ticked by. Outside, it began to rain. 

**1975, California  
Two Years Later**

The summer sun was on its way to the horizon. The sky was a mess of pink and orange clouds, swirled like spun sugar. It was still hot out: not the blistering heat of midday, but the more diluted, sweltering warmth of early evening, when the world seemed to stand still.

The beach was empty. A car pulled off the road and stopped on a hill that overlooked the expanse of white sand and blue waves. Its windshield was dusty, tires worn. The engine hummed and then stopped. The driver’s side door opened.

James Conrad got out of the car, standing on the cliffside for a moment and enjoying the warm breeze that hit his face, twisting the ends of his hair into gentle waves. His chiseled, clean-shaven face was sharp and handsome as ever, only now it told a story. The lines in his skin were written words, testaments of his joys and tragedies. The numerous scars on his body, like the one across his chest, were the monuments of memories gone by. But despite the weathering, Conrad’s blue-green eyes were crystal clear as ever: soft and bright as the ocean he looked out on.

It was quiet out there.

He shut the door and pocketed the keys, heading for the beach. He pulled off his shoes and dug his toes into the white sand, squinting out at the water. This was one of the more beautiful scenes that he’d looked out on, since coming to the United States. For the past two years, that was all he’d done: travel to new places, see new things, meet new people.

After everything that had happened two years ago (and it felt like a lifetime), he didn’t know what else to do.

Conrad inhaled deeply and pulled off his shirt, dropping it next to his shoes and walking out towards the water. Towering waves crested and toppled onto the shore, lapping up at the sand. The saltwater was alluring and cyan blue, promising relief from the summer sun.

He’d only just stuck his toes in when a voice rang out from up the beach.

“Hey, wait up!” 

Conrad turned around and smiled at the sight of you, standing in the evening sunlight, holding onto your hat as you slammed the car door. You ran down the hill as fast as your legs would allow, discarding your hat and shoes somewhere along the way, and leaping into his arms without reserve.

He caught you easily, spinning you around and laughing as you clung to his neck. You drank in the smell of him, sandalwood and smoke – it never got old – and laughed exuberantly against his chest. You had left your military self behind on Skull Island years ago; everything you’d been forced to hold back for so long had been set loose.

Conrad finally set you down, both of you dizzy, before your eyes lit up with a mischievous spark. You wasted no time in running into the waves, relishing in the cold spray of seawater on your skin. You were like that – full of energy, pulling him from one place to the next. 

You’d asked him once before to tell you what it was like: _what happened when I died?_ But he would never say, only kiss you more fervently and squeeze your hand. He could never bear to think about it, much less say it aloud: that for those terrible three minutes, he was standing on the edge of the unimaginable, facing a future he couldn’t bear.

But that hadn’t happened. Instead, you were on a California beach in late august, laughing in the sun and running despite your limp, alive and well beside the man you loved. 

You splashed Conrad with water and he shouted at the cold before laughing and following you into the waves. He sent a spray of water your way. You shrieked, wading further in to try and escape him, until you’d ventured to where you could no longer touch. 

You treaded water and smirked defiantly. Conrad merely chuckled– his feet still touched the ground where he stood, and he waited with a patient expression. 

Eventually you relented, paddling over. He caught you by the hands and reeled you in, pulling you against his bare chest. You looped your legs around his waist and put your hands on his shoulders, staring into his ocean eyes without hesitance or remorse. They were yours to drown in. 

Conrad smoothed back your wet hair, his eyes dark and deep in the evening light. He kissed you, the way he always did: like he’d never tasted anything sweeter. Like he never wanted to stop.

Later that night, when your muscles had worn out and the moon was rising against a star-filled sky, Conrad carried you back to the car wrapped in a towel. He set you in the passenger seat with care, pressing a tender kiss to your lips and chuckling when it roused you out of your drowsiness. 

You reached up and pulled him down for another, longer kiss. Conrad hummed against your lips, cupping your face in his hands. The towel dropped from your shoulders as the seat fell back. The air was warm and still.

You moved together in slow, steady rhythm, in and out like the waves breaking against the shore. He drew you further in with every breath, but you weren’t afraid– he was always there to cradle you against him, to keep you above water. He dug his fingers into your back, murmuring praises against your skin, leaving no part of you unloved – from the nape of your neck to the razor-thin scar along your inner thigh. Your heartbeat rose with the rising tide, all gasps and breathless moans, as you lost yourself in him.

The waves broke against the shore.

~

You and Conrad sat against the car wrapped in blankets, watching the sky turn rosy with the coming dawn. You curled up against him, resting in the unfailing strength of his arms as he held you, and in his low chuckle when you nuzzled your nose in the crook of his neck.

“Hey,” you murmured. You looked up at him and reached up to trace his jaw with your finger. Your lips curled in a smile when he pulled away to look at you, brushing noses.

“Mm?”

You raised your eyebrows. “Tell me the tiger story.”

Conrad laughed, kissing your forehead and sighing. “I don’t know why you love it so much,” he admitted, thumbing over your lips in thoughtfulness. 

“Come _on_ ,” you laughed sleepily, pushing his face away when he tried to kiss you again. You dropped your head against his chest and blinked against the warm light on the horizon. “Just till I fall asleep?” 

Conrad sighed in feigned exasperation and conceded, resting his chin on your head. “Very well.”

He could never refuse you– but then, he never really wanted to. Your laughter, your smile, everything about you was like a drug to which he was hopelessly addicted. 

Your eyes drooped almost immediately when he began. His low, accented voice was thick with exhaustion, but he kept on, reciting the words from memory: it was the very first story he’d ever told you, scarcely three years ago. By now he knew it by heart.

The stars were still shining, albeit dimly, when you finally fell asleep. Conrad smirked at your softened expression, the sweet exhalations of your breath while you dreamed. His hand went automatically to your wrist out of habit, feeling your pulse. It was strong and steady. He relaxed and loosened his grip, sighing contentedly. He watched the sunrise, and played with the band on his finger. 

They say no man comes home from war, not really – but that is not always the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! What a ride it's been. <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! <3


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